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"What kind of joke is this, Father?" asked Lentz, frowning suspiciously while the gun remained thrust between his eyebrows.

"Stop it, Abel," Antonio demanded. "Regardless of whether it's for the sake of preserving secrecy, it would be bad to kill a policeman. Don't joke around."

"It certainly wouldn't end as a joke if this person were a real police inspector. All of you over there, please don't move!" ordered Abel with a straight face, his finger not budging from the trigger. "He's not a policeman, and those men with him aren't police officers, either. They're probably from Neue Vatican. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're not wrong," said the man as though his mask had been torn from his face. With the gun muzzle still stuck between his brows, the policeman's face changed completely. Warping one cheek into a grin, the solemn policeman quickly transformed into a disturbing fanatic. "Well, I'm surprised. I didn't think we'd be found out this quickly. As you say, I'm Father Günter Lentz of Neue Vatican. How did you know, Father Nightroad?"

"How did you know to call me Father Nightroad?" asked Abel.

Perhaps because he was acknowledging defeat, Lentz followed instructions and raised both arms over his head. "I misjudged you. An AX person of skill is indeed very great," said Lentz.

"No, I'm not that," Abel said.

The fake inspector grinned at Abel, who scratched his head in embarrassment. "But you don't follow through," he said.

"Eh?" Abel said, perplexed. His eyes grew round behind his glasses. For an instant, it looked as though Lentz's arm had disappeared. Abel noticed after it became impossible for him to move the revolver's trigger.

"Craft Albion Works Company-made Model Fifty-one thirty-eight-caliber revolver 'Peacekeeper.' Nice gun," said Lentz, who had power and speed that far surpassed that of a typical human. Still firmly grasping the percussion revolver's trigger, he twisted his lips into a grin. "However, a revolver has a fatal flaw: You can't pull the trigger when the cylinder is fixed."

"Ugh!" Abel blurted out. His lips formed the shape of an impending scream, and his right arm strained to grip the handgun. A second later, his six-foot-plus body was flipped and hurled to the stone pavement. Magically, his handgun had been transferred from his hand to Lentz's.

"Wh-what is this?" asked Abel. Lentz had excellent physical technique, and the speed of his movements suggested that he either was a vampire or ... "Lentz, you've been t-tuned?"

"Correct answer," Lentz replied, turning the stolen handgun toward the priest's head and smirking maliciously. The wrist that peeked out from his glove was stained gray.

Tuned—he was a product of pre-Armageddon lost technology salvaged by the Vatican. The heightened power, due to administration of drugs and body-strengthening surgery, was said to rival that of vampires.

"I used to belong to a Vatican special infantry battalion, but I was too enthusiastic at my work, so it caused lawsuits. It was His Holiness Alfonso who saved me from being charged as a mass murderer," Lentz said.

With his gun still pointed at the priest on the ground, Lentz turned and faced Antonio, who stood waiting with his arms folded. The fake police officers had their guns drawn at the prince, who'd indicated his intention to surrender by raising his hands initially.

"You've made us wait a very long time, prince. Won’t you tell us where the list is hidden?" asked Lentz.