"How did your chest just grow back?" Marichi's eyes bore into Burtu's exposed chest, his voice a low thrum of disbelief.
"Huh…" Burtu tilted his head, a flicker of confusion in his gaze.
"You just told us we could all turn into plants very soon." His voice was thin, backed by fear, not air.
"And that same you is still asking me questions?" He pointed at himself, kneeling, looking as if he might fall.
Marichi looked at Burtu, a blend of disappointment and pity softening his features.
"I never did say that you would turn into plants." He placed a hand on Burtu's shoulder once more.
The fact that these kids are even treating me like this…
And i'm their elder…
Burtu's broken face glanced at Marichi's hand, a ripple of inner resentment briefly distorting his expression.
"All I just said was that---" Marichi was sharply cut off by Burtu's voice.
"I did hear you correctly!" Burtu declared, removing Marichi's hand and slowly rising.
"You just said you saw the same black dust here." He began to move closer to Marichi, his looming presence casting a shadow.
"So, as someone just hearing of this now, who's been close to Lezschill, and without face protection like yours…"
"Doesn't that mean I'm going to turn into a plant?" His voice deepened, laced with growing accusation.
"Unless that's a lie? But there's no reason for you to lie now." Burtu stared at Marichi.
If only he knew.
Marichi subtly bent his head, his hair barely obscuring his eyes, leaving them shadowed.
"So don't go acting like I didn't hear you well or that you know more than me." Burtu's teeth gritted, a low growl escaping him.
"I never…" Marichi caught himself, halting the words.
I already know how this goes…
I've met countless of his types.
Marichi thought, subtly shifting to the side of Burtu.
"But the question still stands." Marichi composed himself, his voice steady.
"How exactly were you able to heal your chest like that?" He turned his head directly to Burtu.
"I didn't see any mark of the lamb anywhere, and even if you could heal… there were no sacrifices."
"There's no way someone can heal from that." He subtly waved his hands, a gesture of bewildered confusion.
The peasant does have a point…
How did the thief survive that?
Jorel thought, quietly tapping his feet on the ground as he absently played with his hair, watching the exchange.
"Just… How did you do it?" He glanced from the corner of his eye at Lezschill, who was still fighting himself on the ground.
Burtu stood rigid, his body unyielding, his fists clenched, his gaze fixed on some unseen point beyond Marichi.
"Come on, you have to do it. It might be our only chance out of this." Marichi's heart subtly faltered for a beat, then resumed its normal intensity.
This loud-mouthed kid!
This pest! I should have left you alone…
All your damn questions.
Especially this one…
Something that even I myself can't even answer.
Burtu's body remained rooted, fidgeting with frustrated agitation.
"What kind of god gave you this type of power?" Marichi asked.
"Is it still a god of healing?" he added.
"No…" Burtu answered, his voice a strained whisper.
"So it's not a god of healing?" Marichi listened attentively.
"No… Not that." Burtu raised his head, turning to Marichi.
"I'm not contracted to any god." He said, his voice soft with a melancholic echo, followed by a pained, desolate smile.
"That can't be possible." Jorel interjected, his body fully turned to Marichi and Burtu.
"Then how were you able to heal your chest?"
"Look, I don't know!" Burtu shouted, his hands recoiling as if struck.
These kids!
Maybe Lezschill should just come and kill us now! What's taking him so long?!
He grunted, a huff of exasperation.
"Aren't you kids contracted to any god? Why me?" Burtu asked, his voice laced with bitter resignation.
Marichi bent his head, slowly backing away from Burtu, his vision blurring as the sour taste of a chilling realization washed over him.
…Then how? What am I going to do now?! Marichi thought, a look of utter defeat settling on his face.
Wait.
He then turned to face Jorel, only to be shocked by his reaction too.
Jorel wore a similar mask of defeat, the grip on his sword loosened, almost falling to the ground. Marichi, though he knew the answer if he asked, felt a stubborn refusal in him.
"Jorel, a-are you contracted to any god?" Sweat from Marichi's forehead slid down, dropping to the ground.
But Jorel just stared back, his mouth suddenly a desert of words. He then turned his head to the side, bent down in silent despair.
No…This can't be the end…
Marichi thought, tears almost forming in his eyes.
Burtu then walked forward, past Marichi, his footsteps silent as a husk, his feet dazzling slightly to either the left or right. He removed his damaged chest plate, a gaping hole in its center.
CLANK.
It dropped to the ground as he continued to drag his feet forward. Marichi, quiet and confused, just watched Burtu as he walked at a snail-on-weights pace.
"Where are you going?" Marichi asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"I'm going to quicken it." Burtu's eyes were wide, a dead smile slowly forming on his face.
I can't turn into a plant, I don't want to go through whatever that'll feel like.
I've already died by Lezschill before.
What would one more time hurt?
Burtu gave a slight snort, shrugging his shoulders, as images of Lezschill punching right through his chest flashed in his mind.
The more he walked, the more vigorously those images flashed. Jorel then grabbed Burtu by the arm, dragging him back.
"Can't believe that you're going to die just like that?" Jorel said, his grip firm on Burtu's hand.
"Not even going without a fight? This is why peasants are such miserable creatures." He smirked, as Marichi looked at Jorel with a profound sense of confusion.
This can't be Jorel… Right?
This isn't how nobles act.
Marichi watched with his widened eyes as his mind was confused.
They say desperate times truly do bring out a person's true nature…
I thought I'd already seen his…
But may I have been wrong?
Marichi thought, his eyes drifting beyond them, to the ground where Lezschill had been fighting himself.
A rush of pure, undistilled shock, mixed with a heavy dose of fear, flooded Marichi's body. Lezschill's form was nowhere to be found on the ground, only black blood remained where he had been.
Then, raising his head, Marichi saw him. Lezschill stood directly in front of Jorel and Burtu, his many hands waving erratically. Their shadows eclipsed Lezschill's face, leaving only his eyes, which had become a milky white, like blind orbs.
"Jorel!" Marichi shouted, quickly drawing his dagger from behind him and bolting towards them.
Lezschill readied four hands in the air with a smile that was lost in his black-stained face.
VWOOSH!
---The end of chapter 32---