Reincarnated as a Duck: A beast progression litrpg isekai-Chapter 288 - 279: Drowning

"Yeah... Course. Lorry will tell, but this is far from being over, human!" Lorry said to Razmund, who was in absolute control of this situation, even if the shaking skull knew it was false. He was led by the nose, like most humans are. "This Hell Party or whatnot is but a mere fleeting step among stillness! Hiding, and... doing justice, is not. Your plans are yours. Don't think that Side is up to your puny brain, human. It is not." Lorry then laughed, disappearing into the portal and feeling like a total badass.

Razmund grunted, annoyed to give this skull any more attention. He made his point, and some shitty hiding justice be damned. Against his plan, his power! All shall lose.

It was a creepy confidence, yet Razmund had his team, and whatever Centralis Kingdom was doing, it shouldn't be too bad since he knew those people. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

What did his target even have? It was funny and terrific from the start, but Razmund was allowed, so that was it. He planned to do it. Well, there were prerequisites to fleeing and giving up, but both should be solvable by other means and plans.

Hell Party should make Paradise miserable enough and even harder to traverse than Hellscape, making it almost impossible to complete.

Razmund knew he had forced Murai to the edge with the last Gates, while Murai had never escaped or given up earlier, so that was good. This meant his prey knew he was surrounded, unable to escape, or kept looking for a way out in any shape possible.

But there was no escape. This place still had its chains because the Gods watched over it and his little prey knew it, or... well, that strange ghost did.

Anyhow, everything made it go down and down, through misery and strength, yet where did it end? In this room, it escaped. An unthinkable scenario occurred, and Razmund wasn't feeling very good about it.

In an absolute principle, there was no escape from him. The only possible solution and escape would be a deal with somebody in this temple, or the Mindarch himself. A great mage or even an Overlord might allow such stupidity as well, or do it for simple reasons, or no sense at all.

But would they do it when the world was wrong, and this clear, Encounter-influenced stuff happened right before their noses? Like forcing their hand and helping Murai via transfers, promises, or matters between the Encounter, promises, invasions, or a Helper status, perhaps? Razmund didn't know how many spots Murai had or what he was led into, but he got him in this Gate for the first time.

It ended up being viable as shit, so Razmund suspected things got ugly because of this world and Voice changing.

Hellscape changed, too, unlike any of the previous Gates.

How far could it shift? Razmund didn't know nearly enough, but he watched as Murai's party stirred up his own reasons and how third parties further messed it up. There was no way an Anatidae would have found escape passages that easily, and he was right to expect it. Stories didn't like, but they also disappointed him. It seemed that nothing whatsoever had impacted the other party, and it wasn't because of Ceila's party. It should be about something Levandis had done while denizens felt not a shred of incentive to target Anatidae.

That felt wrong, and if Murai found a deal with this place, going further would be what?

Razmund would have done nothing, yet he didn't stop. Losing and battling sounded inevitable.

Or was it all just nice, wishful thinking? Razmund had no issue with his failures. He detested them to his bones, even if his Hell Party was still there, and he was continuing his hunt. A bit of a hiccup wouldn't crack him apart. It never did. It made him stronger most of the time, and then...

Well, apart from Ceila and her prospects, which messed with his brain a bit too much to his liking. There were more sicknesses in this little divine lady.

"Satisfied?" he asked Ceila, and saw her nod. "How about the rest? You."

David walked behind a pillar, body tensed and even more slim than before. Ultium stood straight, hands in his pockets, and not looking at his boss.

"Never mind that." Razmund clutched his claymore, knowing that with this failure came up yet another business, and he had to go there fast. Finishing his job was his preference. Not that the Centralis Kingdom cared about little details if the job was done.

Fleeing this arena was far from stupidity; only a moron would stay here!

"I do wonder about what is right," Ceila said.

Walking towards the entrance, Razmund wanted to deal with the rest of his Gate first. Not her. "You won't stop me."

Down below, he would deal with them all. His Fate was still moving, though it had skipped a couple of stages, so there were just a couple of choices left. Maybe one if Razmund fucked up further.

Move on, or do not push his luck further?

As much as he thought about it, Razmund was the one making the impossible. His cards were firm, and so were his steps that closed to the entrance. He heard a footstep. Followed by fast and heavy footsteps, or were they thuds?

Razmund turned, seeing someone very impatient. It was Ultium.

"You again? What do you think you are?" Razmund said when a powerful slam jolted his body, forcing him away from the entrance. He made a couple of Steps, moving graciously from the walls back to the ground, where he crouched in his landing, swung his weapon, and put his claymore on his shoulder. Multiple slashes surrounded the devil, one even on the shoulder. None were dangerous.

As he landed, Razmund shook as blood dripped, and many bloody points scattered on his chest, leaking blood. One breath at a time, they closed. In a flex of his muscles, they vanished like a lie.

"That was quick, impatient fool. Thuds. Someone wants to die here, it seems," Razmund said, squinting his eyes as he watched provoked Ultium, who was glowing red in his skin, looking a bit insane, like cloth squeezed.

His suit appeared much tighter, and then Ultium moved his hand from his pocket, loosening his tie a bit to breathe. It didn't have much of an effect on him, unlike it did on this human.

"Don't speak of it like that, human," Ultium stated. "I don't like to be lectured like that. Our fight is close. Here. Now. No time to waste. I was promised that." Then, his horns began to glow even more, growing, but stopping when Ceila stepped aside from him, patting his shoulder.

"At ease, soldier."

Ultium froze, almost forgetting that he was in the middle of his transformation and change of heart.

Ceila walked onward as she pleased, unaware of the hands in the pockets that sought blood and escapism. His figure remained bloody red. Almost black, in fact, with eyes looking intense in their vision and red in their core, and it was very close to pure madness. Still, Ultium stopped, even if he didn't look like that.

"You must be the stupidest enemy I've ever seen," Razmund chuckled and got up, appearing as collected as his body allowed. Those bloody holes nearly choked his lungs and went for his mana core.

"We are leaving," Ceila said, turning to Ultium and then to David. "Why? Because it is a clever thing to do, Ultium. That is the reason, and you are a minor cause for walking onward. It isn't that time again, right? This man before us is an important variable. Not worth ignoring, yet not worth extinguishing."

Ultium grunted, gazing at her and squinting against her radiance that was far too exaggerated in his eyes. "Yes... If you say so, I may wait."

Ceila turned again, hearing a knocking sound from the entrance.

An aged smiling face looked around the corner, waving at them. "Oh, it hasn't ended yet?" Lookish was happy and well, and even his horns gleamed when he walked inside with pieces of armor in hand and a big smile on his face. A pile of treasures went behind him, dragged by his bloody cloak.

"How generous," he said. "How generous of you. Mind you, those..." Lookish jolted when Ceila snapped her fingers and jerked every single one of those bloody figures behind the entrance, who weren't even present. This devil played with them, abused them, and stalled them enough.

Lookish stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder at the entrance. "Ah. These are quite persistent fellas. Still alive and in pieces. Sturdy. Is that the fabled spirit? I pity them, in a sense."

"Very much so," Ceila said. "And you aren't getting them. Thanks for your patience after waiting and playing with my friends. They are very gracious for this opportunity. Same as I, of course, you aren't going to do what someone probably wishes."

Lookish eyed her next, dropped his loot, and noticed how bulky and glowing figures in cracked-down metal pieces walked inside, cracking their limbs and bones, leaking blood, yet walking better than Goldsteel Titans.

One of them had no helmet, which revealed golden hair fluttering against no wind and a youthful face with soft hues of lesser complementary Divinity. He was too youthful for his frame, and his body was soaked in different kinds of prospects for his mortality.

"My deepest apologies," the youth said to Ceila. "We played poorly. Apologies. He is... stronger."

"Enough is enough," Ceila clapped and turned to Lookish. "Will you leave us be or not?"

Lookish glanced at Razmund and Lint. "Oh, visiting hours sure go quicker when one is having fun. I think I forgot something on the stove." Lookish said and walked away. "Pity. I need to hurry."

Ceila cleared her throat.

Lookish flipped his bloody cloak and tossed pieces of armor to the ground. A helmet rolled and clanked, making sounds like a rolling bell.

"You are making this old devil mad, little Sun. Makes me laugh. Have you enjoyed your stay at least?" Lookish said forcefully, almost with a bit of anger, but he had had enough if they did too. "Wrong! I am letting you out! Leave quicker than that last Guide, do you hear me?! Mindarch, you'd better take this as you've said, spirit. And you, glowing lady," he pointed at Ceila, "I hate you to the bone. Curse you, in fact, for taking away my shinies! Wish I had time for this, and this and..." He began mumbling a bunch of nonsense to himself and even kicked some rocks in the way.

It was time to tidy things up, and he was old. Too old for this bullshit, yet not old enough to not have this fun.

Paladins didn't give him what was right, while Razmund was another thing altogether. He was still there and alive, which was absurd.

Those eyes were sick, felt glorious, or fine. It skipped his old heart until Lookish wanted to get involved. That was when Mindarch forbade it, whispering to his ears to forget it.

Ceila waved a hand, shooing him away. "Sure. Hate me with all of your hearts, devil. And never return or see me again."

In silence, Razmund cursed in his mind, looking at those paladins in a profound miscalculation that proved to be worse than usual. Aren't they fucking Dukes? he thought. She brought such big shots with her and uses them like simple tools?!

Now, he earnestly doubted the integrity and power that Levandis possessed, or... this was far wronger. He didn't know the exact perception of their power from the fleeting feelings he had experienced through his Blood Avatar before, and this time was also not very accurate due to Raving and his own mindset.

Should he be foolish about being pinned against this party? Not at all. Lookish helped him without knowing it.

Razmund found his steps hard; his breath became more challenging when these Paladins looked at him again. Then, he looked aside and saw Ultium standing a handful of reach away, arms itching, yet staying in his pockets. And he glared straight at him, hunching a little down because he grew about a head taller even without full transformations.

"Consider yourself lucky that she allows you to live," Ultium said. "And me without my play. And you with... well, the prey isn't so small. It's quite big, actually. Well, it is small but different. It is worse. Well, not worse off. It isn't... well, it is... what, exactly? Animal...bad. Weird."

Razmund felt the urge to go all out and disappear from this cave because he swore this devil rippled fear towards that small thing. The blood within him was turning upside down until Razmund was no longer sure where to look.

He almost slapped his face, realizing he was on top of their palms. Why was he so comfortable? Did he have confidence just because of the rules and facts in his flesh, or... that thing?

Ceila didn't seem to care and wasn't hiding anything.

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There are no rules. No balance. No time. Razmund cursed in his mind. This is wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Oh, so wrong.

No amount of maps or forceful warnings proved their merits. This place could become his coffin.

Behind Ultium, David walked and patted his back. "Calm down, boy. Let this one slide if it means something good for us. We still have to do what we must. Don't forget it."

"This human," Ultium said, glancing behind him. "He was my prey. You promised. It angers me."

"And as with many promises, where do they lead? What did she say to you?" David asked.

Ultium was thinking for a second. That lingered for a dozen more until he didn't find the right answer and gave up.

At that time, Razmund stepped away and found shocking help in Lint, who hovered above him and waved furiously at Ceila and others.

"Don't treat this as a vacation, Sun," he said to Ceila. "Forfeit this place, right now! That is what my Lady wants. You are not to touch or do anything in here! In this place. Arena! Floor... Oh, and if you..."

"I don't care what is here at all, or what was here, or what goes around or below," Ceila finished his words and once more showed no concerns. "Oh, and don't give me anything about rights or wrongs. Nothing works like this anymore, let alone now."

"Really? How have you found this place then?" Lint asked, squinting his Flames to make two little flat storms. It was a good question that even Razmund had been pondering for a while. Was it a communication? That could be it since half of the Lost Brothers were with her. That might explain things.

Alas, it was both right and wrong. Ceila had no need for David's direction or his construct, though their convenience was promising since Vermillion wasn't talking to her all the time. Every once in a while was enough, and after she met David and Ultium, not once did her Lady call to her.

Simple knowledge of Murai's location and where it was made set her actions in stone.

But not her travels, whom she could meet, and what issues this place assembled. Vermillion couldn't know everything herself, as even she couldn't depend on Ravine's piece. Talking was enough, or far more than enough, as far as that world-class rock was concerned.

Levandis protected her reasons, but with one knock, one of her many secrets was out of the box. The door to the unknown, that is. This area was the same, but it wasn't close to starting anything significant. In a sense, it was a simple knock—a push to get Murai where he should be, even by force.

Some actions were never enough, and Vermillion, even with Ravine, barely discovered the rough location of this cave. That became easier with her paladins and her senses until the rest proceeded with ease thanks to her hidden approach and the reality of her paladins.

Knowing where to go and getting there were different matters, and Vermillion warned her about it, knowing that Levandis might bend the knee or let her be, but not both.

That was why this invasion wasn't a walk in the park, and there were many obscurities. After all, the mere idea of being tolerated, albeit by a bunch of blackmail, was enough.

It worked out.

Itrosh's fleeting call was also a small cause, and her messages and communications were meaningful, yet Bagus was a different story. He helped Ceila like no one else did because he stopped Razmund, who was far smarter and quicker than Ceila thought. She saw the reason and accepted Bagus's sacrifice.

Vermillion didn't want Razmund to find Murai just yet.

And she didn't want to kill Razmund either.

So, what the hell did she want? Ceila didn't know the specifics and hated to doubt her Lady even more. She just had to do what she wanted and justify it to herself. Like a fine tool, that is.

Behind Ultium and David, the Paladins gripped their broken armor pieces and filed them together with their energies. There were many metal pieces, and they needed to be attached and fused with their powers.

Forcing them apart revealed their flesh, wounds, and cracked skin, but just for a moment. Their divine-infused bodies were of upper quality even amongst the armies of the Gods. All of them were Dukes. Such positions were right below the weakest kinds of Gods in the Divine Spheres, and a number of other beings.

There were also different, exceptional cases. Ceila herself was abnormal, but she never lived in any Divine Kingdom. Down here was plenty for her, and if she got up, maybe her status would be no different from theirs, but the Surface was her home.

There was a lot of work to be done here. Her Lady's plans were older than Ceila's life, so she had to revere them. Many generations of Suns worked for everything their Lady selected.

"Well," Razmund said, sneering, and clutching the handle of his claymore with deep strength. "You are giving me the kind of meal that I can hardly chew. I think I will burst apart instead, but I am not hungry. Again, even with Dukes..."

Ceila made her choice right there. She stepped closer, grasped Razmund's neck, and pinned him to the ground in one move that stunned him. He was late in his reaction, or pretty much anything. She was far too quick and forceful, and that was just one single hand.

He tried to get better and use his claymore, gripping it and positioning it correctly, though she got far too close to make it effective. Ceila grasped him like a child and did the same thing to his weapon.

Razmund was helpless. Hopeless. Witless.

He held onto his claymore, hoping to make a point. He made a critical error when darting his eyes around and judging those Dukes as his main worry, but a priestess groomed under most Rank 2 and beyond was worth a special kind of attention.

"I shall give you a couple of choices and intents. Reminders, you might call them," Ceila said, crouching above him, hands firm and pressing like a mountain on him.

Razmund struggled. "What kind?"

"You will do your job and certain actions for us."

"I wish I could say I care, but this meal... I won't eat it. No way it is worth it, and you must be joking. I don't trust it. I don't trust anyone. This thing means something for me," Razmund sighed and picked up the Token that remained on him.

"Wait," Ceila sounded awfully hesitant, "with that. Your Side is not mine to take, since Encounters do their justice, while yours is nothing but an excuse. Why did Centralis alter its course like that? Why handle and involve my church!? Or my student?! Children have nothing to do with it."

"Your student?" Razmund frowned, unwilling to lose to her in voice, but her grip was far too powerful. "I have no idea what you are talking about. It is nothing. However, if I must say something, I do have my guesses. That girl is more against that Lady of yours, or a simple precaution that was recommended for some reason. It is not mine. It was unexpected and well outside of my Part. So I don't know. Personally, I don't care for involving kids. It seemed unimportant, yet now, when I look at it, perhaps I was mistaken. This could change things up, wouldn't you say?"

"Leave them be!" She slapped him down, but Razmund didn't even blink.

"Not my choice."

"So it is Centralis? You are the Origin, aren't you? Encounter's Origin?"

"Maybe. Reason or Origin, I am probably both. At this point, I feel like a foolish tool regardless of any reason."

"Then," Ceila whispered, "What is going on with you and the other Side?"

"Not much. Not for me. Calling it a grudge or a mere meeting is fine. Or a failure." Razmund argued calmly and tried to kick her off with his knee. It didn't work. "Jesus, you are heavy for a woman. What do you want? I am purposeful in bits, left out of the overall picture, and floating God knows where. Whatever you think I can do, it is false."

"You think you are a player, huh?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea against your party, or some God, for that matter. I don't give a shit about balance. There hasn't been one from the start, so perhaps killing things is fine. Well, Judges or Gods might set things straight, or anew later on. Not now, I guess. So? Are you one of them?"

Ceila grasped his neck better and went closer to his face with hers. "Is it Lordis? Why, my Lady?!"

"Reason or Origin, this is the Encounter, and Gods are behind them. I am not. So yes, a play for Gods and mortals isn't up to mere pawns. Queens and kings can be anyone. At least in their heads. Not acts."

"And who are you?"

"I am just a player, at best. And you are heavy for a mere pawn. Leave me. I don't need to hear your reminders, while you sound like you want something I can't even give."

"Oh, you are mistaken. There are goods that anyone could do to anyone. You will promise me a finite clause."

It wasn't a request that Razmund had to tolerate. It was a straight-up order.

"Was this your intention from the very beginning?" Razmund asked, bothered, but those looming Paladins behind her changed his mind. "If so, you are stupid. Why would I consider any promises?"

"No. Your Side is not all about your surroundings. It's about you and what you stand for against the other Side. Centralis has it all, while the reason is elsewhere. Why did it go this far from the get-go? How? Like this, with this hunt and everything. Us and you. The others."

"Doesn't sound like a promise. More like you have no clue what your Lady beseeches you with, and you utter garbage. Seriously, I don't even undesrnad you. Can't say I blame your confusion." Razmund was confused as to why she kept going.

"No. Answer it anyway." She pushed him against the ground, leaving him groaning.

He tapped the back of his head against the ground, hoping to solve the freaking dizziness, and mutters.

"Fine. Centralis found it interesting enough. Something about history, or... bullshit!" He shouted, and his eyes changed again. Now, it didn't hurt. Ceila felt something wrong much closer than before. "Blessed and that kingdom is what it is! What did you expect, sun? We are all crazy motherfuckers for power. Everyone is. They want benefits. To close on Tier S Power does that to a King, while the Gods are Gods! Reason? Balance? Don't be ridiculous and expect fairness in the shadows of this world."

"Kings..." Ceila frowned. "How far would Zendurion go?" She asked herself. "Far, I know. Tell me, what is your Part? Is it a singular pact, as you are the door, or is it worse because of everything that suits needs, or your target?"

Razmund remained intense and motionless, still feeling a mountain pressing on him. "How could you know what is going on?"

"Doesn't matter. Details do, and you don't know. I do, for I know much more than you."

"Don't push it then. They are prepared. Game Hunt is what it is. The Gods want us to take on weird jobs, let me tell you that, especially because of how shitty they could act. Now, leaving me aside or not, you do what you do. I do my part for myself."

Ceila hummed. "I see." Then, she released Razmund, who jolted up and jumped away, scratching his neck. "I will let you slide in your prose, boy. Why? Killing you might give rise to more troubles, and your life can be a valuable asset if you listen to me."

"For whom?" he asked, eyes snapping back to reality.

"For everyone, which is strange and evil, but also their right. It is not your right, by the way. You are desperate."

"Hmph. Not like I don't appreciate you making a mistake. Also, fuck you. Purpose and prose can be different. What do you want from me?! You think I am glad? Far from it!"

"Then forget it. I can kill you at the moment, and if you think just because I find your possible termination upsetting, then I am sure what comes next shouldn't be much worse than someone like you. Alas, letting you go is a gift for everyone, it seems, and not everything needs answers."

Or she couldn't see it anyway because her Lady didn't inform her of every conceivable action.

Out of everyone, Ceila was the weirdest one Razmund had seen. Just what is Vermillion doing with this shit? What does she want me to do? She isn't right, and whatever I do or don't can be for her benefit or out of her fixation. Why does she think my death is that bad? Do they think I can be used against the Centralis? Is it because of Zendurion? Fucking hell... Who would get worse because of it? Hm. Nope. Let's see it further. She will regret it, or I will. I am not dancing on your palm. You are.* He thought and got his shit together.

"This is worth festivals, oh, the Second Sun. Have you ever been like this? What about the rest of the Suns? I didn't seem to think your kind of church would ever go forth like this, even though the killer of my clone got the taste of my body. It is a devil, it seems. A bit amusing, isn't it?"

"Not at all." Ceila said, "The fact that you failed so miserably illuminates my soul. Bagus made it worthwhile, too, so how does it feel? Knowing failure while knowing you could've prevented it all?

"It is a little bitter," Razmund said, what he wanted, clutching his handle tight. "And wrong. My prey won't escape its future. Who knew this sort of place existed here, right, Guide?"

Lint wasn't sure who he should reprise first: Razmund to leave or Ceila to get lost. It seemed both were fine with ignoring him and having their fun discussion.

"It is quite entertaining. I like to see you suffer." Ceila said with a small smile at the end. "Your hunt is laughable and pitiful like your life and your situation."

"How about calming down?" Lint whimpered, cursing how Mindarch had turned his tail and probably fled, leaving him to solve this alone. That cursed spirit must be with Levandis, informing her of this situation and all its consequences.

It was similar to how Vermillion did things, though she at least guided and used her tools well. The Guides weren't worth mentioning when one glanced at those Paladins and Ceila.

Razmund still looked at him. "Is it calm? What is!?"

Lint was sure he couldn't answer that, but so what? Was fixing this madness even possible? Why can't they slaughter each other already?

No. That one idea was wrong. He couldn't force anything. Lookish was bitter, sure, and also very important.

And that portal was old, active, and very sensitive, like most of this level.

"Hearing that from anyone is hilarious, but a welcoming idea," Razmund forced a smile and turned to Ceila. "Do you want to catch me? See me fail more? Argue? This is an Encounter, dear. A place where everything worse goes and changes even when the world stands still. We go at it for ourselves. You are the same."

"I do it for my student. Don't toss us to the same bag, moron," she replied, glaring at him with radiating killing intent that showed light after all this time. Her figure crisped up, showing an abundant, colorful radiance.

"That too, of course," Razmund replied as if the matter of fact didn't matter much to him. "It is a variable of our dear king. A courtesy of how Encounters go. A course to force things well if one thing fails. Presumably, that is."

"You are gambling on possibilities as if the Gods know what they are doing. They don't. The Will of the Battleworld is the same. You always rely on it far too much!" Ceila shouted. "Now, it doesn't work, so what will it be?"

She snapped and let Paladins arrange themselves around Razmund.

He was enclosed, almost like a beat-up dog.

"Will you lose your life, or lift it up and do as I say?" Ceila demanded.

"How about a third choice?" He glanced at Lint, his Token, Dice in his left hand, and a claymore glinting in his right.

"You are in denial if you...Ugh," Ceila gave up. "It is too much to deal with morons."

"Welcome to this world," Razmund spread his arms again. "Everything is a whim. Gods do it. Will of the Battleworld moves it. Mortals die and live just to fuel this machine. Even you and everyone here. All of this was caused by some stupid Voice! All of it, and for what?"

Razmund shouted, sounding hysterical as his face contorted and his voice turned hoarse.

"All because of a stupid fucking old soul born into... a fucking duck?!" Razmund doubted that sentence, so he followed it with even worse. "All because of some whim and choice of thievery of shitty, haggard bag and crushed little limbs, or nearing its death? This grudge isn't small, I know, but silly it is."

"Should I give you a better ultimatum?" Ceila suggested. "The fact that you speak so little of it makes me sick because you don't even know what you are involved with. There are things you can't conceivably understand with your moronic brain."

"Then enlighten me! What is that duck?"

Lint moved down, floating between them, and shut down Razmund's attempts. "Let's not go there, or... I don't know. Judge or something. Book. Tail. Coin. Whatever. Just stop! Leave! Deal with the rest on a whim if it started like one."

Razmund didn't think so. "Everything follows Lordis! NO! That is wrong. MORTALS! They are the key. Us. Without us, the Gods are nothing. Nobody would play their games," he pointed with his claymore, making a slicing motion everywhere. "There is no point, so..."

He pounced aside, choosing a separation between the closest Paladins.

He felt a slap straight away. Then, a cold brew of his blood mixed with dust and cold ground.

Along with it, his claymore disappeared into his pouch. A courtesy of one paladin who smacked him like moving shadows, it seemed. All that was left was his Token, which Ceila took from him and placed on his chest.

"I won't touch Destiny Dice," she said, aware of its whimpering noises and colors. "Now, some listening is more than adequate. Perhaps I should have done that from the beginning, but I won't teach you about your death or what is right. I will let you cry. Not that my shoulder is nearby, that is. Your agency is encouraging, and my Lady shows interest in you. Shame I can't say the same thing."