Reincarnated as a Duck: A beast progression litrpg isekai-Chapter 248: Pushing forward

Complaints echoed from the darkness, and Lanzedar's voice felt like the whispers of a genuine devil. To whom? Well, Razmund was far below, hanging onto his claymore and not listening to any devil. He already had too much of that, and one even wrapped around his left hand.

In the elevator shaft, the only light source came from sturdy Ultra Meterium, or Gems, which remained in various storages around the temple. This calamity hadn't shattered common sense, with most destruction occurring in this Gate specifically. Razmund assumed it was due to large quantities of Ultra Gems, or because of their origin.

Raw Meterium was mostly safe, and almost all Ultra Gems were either safe and protected by the formation of vaults or held directly under Levandis's hands.

Those exhibiting light and colors almost all turned to dust, leaving the underground lacking in light, as even the artificial suns dimmed.

For miners and anyone using Gems for light, the truly valuable ones were always in their spatial rings or pouches fit for such treasures. It wasn't a matter of pride or showing off but about their safety and superiority.

Shattered Gems were unfortunate drawbacks driven by this calamitous Will, which departed more than an hour ago, leaving many shafts, cities, and homes shrouded in darkness. Most of the Hellscape also lacked its usual appeal, as everyone who had heard it feared it.

Razmund was almost in the darkness because he had no Gems of his own. He didn't have to since he couldn't overlook it, or he didn't care about it. It was similar to how Murai bid his time.

Well, not like he needed it all that much; his eyesight was exceptionally good, and like anyone walking the marks of mana, it was a good source of light. Then, he also had his Dice with its pinky hues, and from below, someone bright was also coming, even if in a darker and redder ambiance.

Lint flew from the elevator's hole and felt uneasy after a small chat with Lanzedar. He rather refocused on a different kind of asshole. It's a shame that pride of heart wasn't his forte. Even common sense was distant, as if nothing could clean up this mess. Not him. Not his Lady. This mess had to stop one way or another. And such methods weren't up to him, even if he wished and thought he witnessed ways to do it.

Lint was just one little player, or not even that. Frankly, he shouldn't want to be around this problem since that Will truly startle everything. He wondered what his Lady planned to do about it or what change could happen.

To his surprise, Razmund took it incredibly well and looked as if that calamity wasn't his problem at all. But he heard Lanzedar's shouting tips and words for his sake. It wasn't surprising; it appeared natidaes had done their familiar duty, and Lanzedar had a history with them on more than a couple of occasions.

Lint wished to know the specifics, though he didn't know what they would even do. Imagining a devil and those silly, proud, and insane monsters walking on two feet, he simply shook his head and doubted Razmund would ever consider his terms.

Lint knew how this old devil lived or how he lived a very long life. Filled with various stories and meetings around the Battleworld, there were many legends and races with considerable weight and stories behind them.

It wasn't about beasts alone, or demons, or Hells. The Surface has humans, and those hold onto stories coming from the past and observations stored for the future. Gods were part of it, or it was a simple matter of cultures capable of creating new eras.

One should always judge those of Chaos who grew old in high and dangerous regards. The closer it got, the more challenges it contained. But it was no poison or anything like that. In a sense, devils were very nuanced and profound in their Chaos, which made them into eccentrics willing to do anything for their hearths.

They took part in clashes of Divides like kids who couldn't decide on their favorite candy and, in truth, didn't care what was right or wrong.

Such races and subjects were everywhere. Some leaned on the left or right, but in truth, there were no sides. In many ways, there was no point in picking anything. It was all about living dutifully, and some things can't and shall never be judged.

It didn't matter if one was old and frail, losing power because of some injuries, lack of talent, or other means. What mattered was the spirit, and no one should become a loser.

Lanzedar used to be an Extreme, Lint knew and remembered. The kind that saw lofty heights of this world and many places, fought wars for nothing or something, similar to himself and many others. If not some respect, what was owed and fit for some concession?

Lint felt some melancholy as one that met his End once without becoming Blessed. Instead, his Lady gave him her own choice that hauled the Divides upside down and allowed him to see a different life. He was hers and he was the one defying the universe, similar to this world itself.

It was serving a purpose, giving the board of living beings a point, or those seeking power and rules a knock at the broader patterns.

Everyone was trying to defy the heavens or watch how others did it or would do it. How and when it went well depended on the degree of their weight and willingness to do things, while among many, it was seen as optimal because the heavens would not talk back. It was as if nothing really mattered and the living beings could try anything.

Lint saw some truth in the helpless struggle of this journey. When once dead, that was. Some of those like Lanzedar followed very dangerous ways to ease the way forward, setting up links to Gods who knew the truths or closed on them. Missions set by Levandis herself were often filled with thorns and chances, and getting them going was one way to go about it.

They involved risks with very lofty rewards, yet difficulties that would take years to overcome. Their entire life might be one giant cage without a key or any door. That line of thought was synonymous with looking out of a well or a planet.

Lint guessed Levandis must have involved Anatidaes in her calculative missions, though not everyone would ever get it or know why this was fine. Those willing to take such missions were the toughest of her subjects, either close, not part of her military, or family.

There were many divisions scattered around her subjects of interest. Most Gods held some sort of inner rankings, while Rank 1 was the peak before the peak, giving Gods lower than her cover in her Hell. That was how most pantheons worked, leaving some with broken hearts.

Mortals were unaware there was no end in sight. Their Ends were unfair thoughts, while their bodies and minds had to diligently work for Gods, even if they could no longer see or think straight the more they followed.

It wasn't that weird when those who gave up thought about it, living aside and observing. There were many creatures in this world that were kind of ridiculous, Anatidae and many others included. Gods weren't the reason why it was like that. Nature did its course, and simple manners of natural selection ensured a fine revolution.

Humans were simple in that vision. Devils were less simple, yet not that different if one fit them into a single bag or compared them across the span of Epochs or many cultures.

Demons were... well, various and weird in bodies and Bloodlines, so they were fine to disregard due to their sheer independence from common sense. The relative simplicity of their Chaos ensured the throughout selection.

When one thought broadly about their racial structures and issues, special or unique cases would shine like anything else. Even among Gods, devils, animals, and humans, there were oddballs.

Beasts carried an immensity of various genomes scattered across the ages and eras. Everyone feared and respected this primal process, and it was something that Levandis and many others called Bloodlines.

According to her, they carried historical significance that was different from regular mana or lives. Bloodlines could be deep, skip the process of life and death, and turn into something else when the time was right or when luck was on someone's side.

She believed that something very tiny was shaking the lifeforms to very special heights and well above normalcy. The reason? Perhaps it was the heavenly way to express a difference while also shackling them at the same time. It was odd. Gods were human in most aspects, no matter if one watched the Chaos or Order, or Hells or some Divine Sky Kingdoms.

Beasts had very potent and old roots for some reason, as they weren't those of Order or Chaos, but simple creatures that evolved into animals and various forms that live on a ridiculous amount of planets.

In this world, one could truly see some of these differences in a new light, research them, laugh at them, and fearing them have a fulfilling passion.

It was out of sight, or perhaps it wasn't the will of the universe to be like that. Mutations and life around many planets or distances seemed far too complex and weird to call a transformation. It was more like a natural changing process that always gave one ultimatum. Time.

It was more like a touch. An influence, some might say. Something that was made for a purpose of change and time, or luck, or meddling with Fate and bodies of some lifeforms, giving something a purpose or mask.

Where had it started? Where could it end?

Had life held some meaning besides the struggle to survive, fight, defy, and all of that would to come to an End called death? The Afterlife was another legendary point, hiding in the way of the universe of life and death. Many could not see it. They could not imagine how that would work.

Lint felt a little weird when he was pursuing Blessed before him and losing an old friend who no longer recognized him.

Lanzedar was a little old to seek any remedy, similar to most Guides who were just sneaking past the inevitable Will of the Universe. The End was coming for everyone, yet some live because of Levandis or themselves alone.

Perhaps this old fool below him would become Blessed when he met with his End, but it wasn't a matter of luck or chance. It simply happened against the knowledge or Will of gods and others. Blessed natives to this world were kind of rare, and Gods couldn't meddle with it at all. That was until one regarded the Life Companions; Blessed Companions, some called them.

Lint got it; he always thought of his End as something good and natural. Bad things happen for no reason, and good things are always the same. It's a state unavoidable in this world. It was almost natural, unlike many things in the universe that seemed to be way too complex and meaningful, yet chaotic, looking as if there were no orders in things or there was too much of it.

It was very harsh thinking, but Lint carried his head high because of the way he lived, similar to Lanzedar, who at least proved something in his ways and life.

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Life would be nothing without anything. The universe would be nothing without something.

In that picture, the little lives could matter, and a small picture of Anatidae tribes and stories entered his skeletal mind. They were harsh little creatures that were created because the Gods of this world wanted some pets and tried to play for one true god. Doing so with lives as if they were the rulers of them all was wrong on many levels, yet in arrogance and power, few would reprimand them.

Experiments went by the approach of the higher heavens, known as Endless Skies. It was like playing with fire, Lint considered and thought. He abided by words his Lady often spoke, in brief times of sleeping or eating or simply chatting for the sake of age.

She also dreamt and hopped for something. It was unknown what that was, and Lint swore a God was a God for a reason. It was harder to understand why she struggled so much for the old sake, but moving on might be a sin from where she came from.

The aftermath of the experiments was an inconceivable blunder, as evolution and mutations could happen in a blink, defy all expectations, and create miracles and curses across the heavens, space, and all realms.

Experimentations with that sort of attitude carried a lot of problems, thus, the Anatidaes were born alongside some other creatures that had similar or lower weights and insanity. Some died soon enough, becoming extinct because of the godly blunders of trying to hide the truth. Some of those hid. Others fled.

Yet all of them were considered as less than pests, for Gods wanted to fix the world and their mistaken plays and judgment. It ended up worse... Much worse than anyone could've predicted.

Yet Battleworld would survive it all. It had survived worse histories, plays, and blunders, known by no one in this world or known by it and few.

But the universe didn't take it lightly, nor those poor creatures that were just whiffs of those with improper ideas meddling with the ways of the universe.

Lint thought that Razmund was a weirdo for doing things the way he did for such a loose sake. But if anything should make sense, then that was human nature, and knowing Blessed and some cultures.

Some things weren't fine to question because there was no meaning behind them besides saying no or yes. Or there was something hidden, but one shouldn't know the answers, as it was unnecessary or better kept unknown.

Like the devil below, Lint had purposes and words he left to erode. Hopes or dreams were there as well. Everyone was making compromises with opinions and ideas as if they were goods for trade, but all of it was lives, excuses, and a bunch of tracks to help Gods.

Now, he was somewhere, doing the same shit he kind of detested. His Soul Flames glowed, revealing Razmund, who was hanging from his claymore stabbed into the stone, looking confident, yet not in the darkness.

Stolen novel; please report.

The little pink color around his left hand created some charm, while the red color of Lint's Soul Flames created another touch to this person. It briefly revealed his body and smile, though they hadn't lasted very long. Lint thought he had done so because he heard Lanzedar's words.

“You sure this is the right way to do this? Hunt and all that had happened, do you plan to dig your way forward, or make your own grave? Should I laugh?” Lint asked him as he reached him, offering nothing but his words.

Razmund cocked his head, glimpsing at his Dice and sword. “I just know how to go forward.”

“Or backward. I bet it isn't that hard for you people.”

“Shut up. I don't care about that Will that descended or some devil's voice. I made no promises to you either.”

“And I feel I did so more than once or twice. Disgraceful!”

“Not to me. So? What are you glaring at me for, you legless bones?” Razmund asked.

“Give me reasons!”

“Not sure. Who is ever sure about that sort of thing? Only those that are, are those who know what they are doing. Who is ever sure?” Razmund argued, looking straight into the beaming red flames. In this manner, he barely saw his bones because of the darkness.

“Some fools are tautening while not being genuine and fine at all. It is called a dream, or an idea for freedom. I call it fake. Well, it could be false hope, a simple failure, or a play of words. Sometimes, what is right is wrong, while certainty appeases the guesses. Such is life.” Lint said, sounding as if he recited some words from some book or his head.

“What does that mean? Guesses? I am not guessing shit. I have my Path! I have my ways, and I am not a failure.”

“So you know what you are doing?” Lint cocked his head this time around and hid his chuckle behind his single arm. It didn't help in the slightest, for his body was just an instrument.

Razmund didn't reply; he rather flinched his body and jumped to stand on the flat edge of his claymore.

The elevator below continued its descent, but its necessity ended. Razmund had his destination set in stone. Almost literary. The flat wall of this big vertical shaft was before him.

Tapping it with his palm, it was cold and firm, devoid of all Ultra Materium because this constructed shaft was either always here, or Levandis created it herself many years ago before the mining even started.

Or this shaft was convenient and never touched any Ultra Materium veins. If that's so, it was lucky. It was almost inconceivable, but Razmund wasn't aware of this history. He bet someone had mined all of it away, creating a way down.

“I know what to do,” Razmund stated.

“Have you forgotten where we are? What was that voice before, or what... the Encounter and everything is about?”

Razmund shifted his head in Lint's direction. “Do you know that voice?”

“Who knows...” Lint scratched his chin, smiling mysteriously.

Razmund scoffed as he punched the wall, leaving small cracks. It seemed sturdy but not sturdy enough to go against him. The Dice chuckled, creating a musing song to go along with every punch.

This was his mark. The wall that will be his shaft and way-point to go deeper, and reach some shafts, or caves.

Razmund turned toward his unhinged nature and smiled. Flexing his body tight, he punched the rocky wall to get some footing and space to stand up first. Debris, dust, and blood flew, but he didn't care. He wildly dug out a sizable hole before stepping inside and used his feet, hands, and claymore to crash the earth for him to go forward.

For Lint, it was up to this madman's mind, though he would lie if he said Razmund didn't have a direction. Lint watched it all from behind, dodging some flying rocks as he remained flowing in the empty space of this massive shaft. Most rocks started to turn to dust the moment mana swirled, and cascading layers of flaring Intent and cuts flayed around a new human-sized shaft.

Then, Razmund went insane. Laughter, cries, or grunts followed many cuts and tremors. Of course, the musing song never departed.

It was a rather clumsy method to find a path, but even if he had better ideas, like using Lanzedar even more, Razmund was set upon this simplicity and would not change it.

What if... there was a better idea, Lint thought. According to his suggestion and awareness, it wouldn't be stupid to follow official paths and shafts. There were many main shafts deeper that went around a lot of places, connecting ways to smaller ones. They were a long way down already, so the paths were robust, Materium common, and Razmund's ideas were sooner or rather hit a wall.

After all, where would this digging end? Could this even give him some edge or provide his Dice a clear path?

As Lint thought of that, a lot of suggestions turned to doubts after he realized that Razmund most likely didn't care about official paths or this digging. As long as he had direction, what else mattered? Relying on that single angle, planning on changing, or getting in the direction of some shafts shouldn't be too bad.

His target must've walked in some of them and continued walking. Thus, the path should have an end no matter what he does.

Razmund wasn't thinking too deeply about any of that as Lint because the hole of his Dice pointed forward, and the shaft behind him was no longer important, even if it went to the bottom of everything.

All of this confirmed his prey was somewhere in these mines, so there was no point in hesitations. Hunters shouldn't understand this or get his digging unless Lanzedar would betray him, which was unlikely, or... extremely possible.

Lint wondered how the opposite Side got inside this far without arousing the eyes of Rataratan or others, or why were they even trying this hard in the middle of this Province. Was it really about the mining, or was the matter what he had feared? That Will?! The shaking? What about the true Materium?

Hints of the old portal appeared in his mind, bringing on thoughts of the core crucial secrets of Levandis. Why would it come to this point or it becoming public? The Hunt wasn't anything spectacular. It was related to the Challenger, task and and both created finishes for this Gate.

According to Mindarch, that is.

At that moment, Lint shivered without realizing why. That possibility stopped all his thoughts when he realized what it meant and what had happened, yet... how and why?

Should he speak to Razmund about it? That wasn't possible. It was against the law! That place was off the limits by all means necessary, and this sort of thing wasn't ever part of any deal. What forced it or let it continue this madness? Something worse, it seemed.

At first, Lint believed they were here for the mining alone, which was also incoherently stupid when he knew what and how Murai's endured this Gate so far. He only had a pair of some worthy Helpers, with most being quite far from help.

He doubted Razmund would stop even if he knew some doubts or awareness of where he was going, or why. Stopping in these mines and considering options would not be wrong anymore. Lint fell helpless and almost depressed, hoping that Mindarch would speak to him right now. Why and how...

The depths of this place should be untouched.

Shaking his head, the topic of a portal could not disappear from his mind. He hadn't gotten any clues about it in ages because it was about a piece of forbidden knowledge. For it to come, it wasn't about some locks or secrets. It was wrong to even think about it.

Soon, Razmund cut into some mining shaft, which he walked through. The one that his Dice didn't necessarily like or show, so he charged to the opposite wall and ignored this path. It would be better to walk rather than do this silly digging, Lint believed. Perhaps even asking or forcing some Hunters for directions was a better idea.

Still, Razmund didn't care about that; he was doing what he desired. If he did think things though, Bagus's path would clear up, Hunters would get more out of it, while his little targets might know he was around.

Yet what of some rumors, fake news, or liars? Trusting was for gullible losers, which was something that Lint hadn't forgotten. He straight-up forced it out of his mind because something worse came up.

Lint had at least half a dozen correct plans, yet his current status wasn't that. He couldn't help judging this reality, watching this digging and painfully long process that had a potentially terrific end.

Ultra Materium started to appear as Razmund dug, and he even unwittingly started to mine and crack some unfortunate veins. He either stored them into his pouches, ignored them out of spite, or proceeded to dig around them or through them.

He followed his Dice in every interest it held and sang about. Some compromises had come with pain and trickery. For now, he was fine with being an inefficient, stupid fool.

The quantity of blood drops wasn't generous, so with less than a dozen uses, finding a way through this digging was one direction for success. How long will it take? A day, or more? Lint shouldn't judge it, for the Fate was singing.

Lint hadn't thought of it anymore, unfortunately. Which was why he was as silent as a Guide should be, fearing the consequences for his Lady and no longer for himself.

Timed moved on with such a frenzy that Lint was having some doubts about his floating self. Turning toward his memories and knowledge, wondering about the voice, the portal of this place, and whether the voice of his Lady held some deeper meaning, he waited.

*Get him out of there without causing unnecessary ruckus and don't question anything. It will end soon.* That was what Levandis said to him a while ago, followed by some comments about not doubting himself and rather forcing the situation down.

It was either a task targeted at him or for him to filthy his hand. These could be the same, so Lint decided to think about half of the problems as he should.

Razmund moved on. A brilliant lunatic was rather questionable from the very beginning, but even a proper plan could create miracles if things progressed well.

So much for Lint's new required terms and purposes, it seemed.

***

Similarly to one Guide, worrying in the depths of the ground and shafts, there was another one, but he was very far away. Unlike Lint, this one had a much crazier head, issues, and thoughts, and a rather odd voice.

Lorry was laughing, thinking about a whole different realm of worries to consider, moan about, and take onto his Soul Flames. Perhaps he was finding some pleasure in everything, unlike Lint, who was disturbed.

What Lorry wanted and desired since the end of the Last Island was right before him, also around him, and felt ever so close.

It was a time of his heavenly life. For his purpose, he moved. The Time itself shall wait for eternity like a curse, but it won't. That wish would not become the truth. He was squeezed. Touched. Questioned. Glanced at like a fool by whom he served, he laughed, moaned, and swayed under numerous emotions and rising fears and questions.

He enjoyed every moment of it, even though it hurt, ground his Soul Flames and voice he so loved and involved the love of his lives. He was in the hands of someone assertive, mighty, and more beautiful than some sights over the atmospheric horizons or deep realms.

Some were difficult, feeling pretty and almost equal to some love. But he had preferences instead of a proper mind. Some would call him a moron and he would agree. There was no help for idiots.

Perhaps the word itself could not even shape her features according to his mindful exaggerations, or eyes that were...well, he wasn't one to lack words for his Lady, or overwhelming prayers. Honesty, honor, and honor. That was something that Levandis always knew from him, yet she wasn't in a good mood and handled it accordingly.

Through fury.

Through helpless inability to act.

She was furious, sitting on her throne, considering options, words, acts, and ways to get her points across. To where? Well, perhaps no one present would listen to her even if the world was exemplary.

And Lorry was gone. His mind was fried, drowned in a frenzy of hands like a foolish Guide that pissed her off. He couldn't even fathom how well it would go, let alone feel. If he had made an unfathomable blunder, things wouldn't be like this, but so far, he knew very few things were his fault, while his target was lacking.

Unfortunately, Levandis had to see some guidance in something, or anyone, lest her Fury grew too large and her Hunger would start to manifest and swallow.

Lorry was the perfect target to start to seek some remedy or sense of reason, yet his point was distant like the Skies. Someone very nasty made her angry. Not Lorry, of course, though he could always become that excuse, reason, or a simple help.

He had this innate art of messing things up, or being involved in them, or helping them go further. That was why he was great as a Guide for those other than herself.

Who knew for how long it could last, but he wasn't alone in his desires, nor was his Lady alone in her grievous anger, doubts, and helplessness over the calamitous Will or how the past days messed her up. Everything was turning to shit and there was nothing she could do about it.

No matter. Levandis clutched a handful skull with her firm, yet tender fingers, feeling Lorry's desires and ignoring how his memories traveled too far above what truly mattered.

Pleasure was left behind a waterfall of bliss and happiness, making him forget what had happened a while ago or whose worries he should feel less. He was guilty. He should be afraid but also glad his Lady didn't know everything. He wasn't alone in his sins.

Right. He was in the same dining hall that Manager Kil attended not that long ago. Unlike before, this place was barren, crashed, and destroyed in a fit of rage of Hunger.

Even her throne had to be replaced for one that was poorer, while the table was nowhere to be seen, similar to any meal. Even many pillars had long found some replacement.

Frankly, Levandis had no desire to think of some food right now, or about her throne or the eyes of her subjects, or this place. In fact, she didn't want to think about her problems at all, yet the problems found her instead, spoke, thought, desired, and made things very difficult.

It was that kind worth of her fit of rage. It angered her more than the Encounter, the overzealous steps of Vermillion, and even Murai himself was not as important. But his Resonance had yet to fall under her awareness, which was a big problem right now, or a very good choice by the one conveying tool.

Mindarch had yet to tell her about the Old One who was seeking the remedy of unlike timing and properties. Through luck, a very touching matter had been created, forged, and forced, and Levandis was an unwilling scapegoat for much broader Sky, or a big villain that was in a wrong time in a wrong space. Even though her little spirit knew all about it, it was still subservient to the great cause.

Levandis wore the same robe as usual, revealing patches of her soft skin, yet her silk robe was thin, annunciating a large portion of her curves and features. Her skin was flawless, yet one wouldn't like to see it right now unless one was insane or could not really die.

Her face was so bewitchingly angry, fitted with rage and maddening smiles, that one would wonder if she was crying or laughing or thinking of a joke amid a terrifying cause. Fear followed the excitement, and hopelessness followed ideas of dreadful possibilities and failures.

Many emotions stirred in her, and anyone half-familiar with her would know her expression meant grave juncture, as she was beyond infuriated. It wasn't the face of someone who got robbed right below her eyes.

Nothing and nobody was stolen.

She felt like something was. Her pride. Her Honor!

“M-milady?” Lorry squeaked a word, even though no amount of physical touch would stop him from speaking. Only an Intent would hurt him, possibly kill him. Some vast Aura was secondary, while Presence or Authority would truly shake him whole, change him, kill him, or take out his soul and make him serve.

He spoke through his Soul Flames after all, while his skull was just a redundant piece of an instrument that was his body, but it was more like a shell of a treasure long lost through time.

Levandis moaned a grunt, almost speaking, but didn't know what to tell him or let him do.

“It wasn't anyone's fault, I swear,” Lorry said. “Just because of some unkempt visiting voice from far away moved through your mighty temple under your watch of thousands of years, it doesn't mean it is like a slap at your beauty. My Lady! This was nothing but an improper misunderstanding and something that shou...”

He shut up without a change of expression.

Levandis blinked, eying him as if she wanted to devour him whole. Her eyes sparkled and something in Lorry shuddered and eyes swirled, becoming little points in his sockets.

Lorry squeaked a chuckle, observing his Lady one more time, trying to discern her emotional distress and how much space had changed. It did. One wrong move, and he would be no more.

At the moment, she was leaning on a large cushioned throne made of large boulders of pillows. She still sat on it as if it was her throne, though it seemed unfilial for her age, while a playful Lorry in her grasp hardly went along with it.

There was no time to eat, but it sure was time for a good discussion, to see what was going on, and what should be said and transpired. Perhaps it was also fine for lies to become truths and for facts to become obvious.

“Lorry,” Levandis started, glaring at the raging flames in his sockets with apathy and death. “I am angry.”

It was a simple statement that Lorry wished to take without a voice, yet he shuddered and felt angry as well, returning his Flames into a raging vortex and growing them alongside his change.

“Of course! It is fine to be angry!”

“I am angry at you...”

“Of course! It... huh?” Lorry didn't utter a moan next, but if he could, he would cry instead. Such a sight was his favorite! NO! That was very wrong and immoral. His conflict increased, and words and madness stirred more.

Watching his Lady grow angry was even rarer and beautiful than watching her happy. It had a certain oomph to her that was hard to forget, carrying vastly different reasons for love and feeling, as few things would truly make her smile and shine.

But for anger itself aimed at him? Oh, that was a different story. Levandis was a God of Somalis Hell, a historical place defying Epochs themselves.

She had worries and knew stories like the rest of the owners of Hells, though some of it wasn't worth much in greater terms of powers, awareness, or fears. All of that was within the grasp of such figures, eyed by those below them and feared by those aware.

It was like being an owner of a bunch of crazy beings. Apathy and worries over them were more than enough for a lifetime, and it was a long journey. Most of them were still the masters of their Paths or seekers of higher heights.

Chaos liked to disregard some Order to lands or pieces of some worlds, as it was fitting, like water flowing in the oceans, thus creating hells and caves or ravines. They weren't hiding. They were living fulfilling lives since Karma was long dead.