Lying Low

Well done! Keep your spirits up. Don't lose face!

Just like "the child is still young," "it's the New Year," or "we're already here"—from ancient times to the present, there had only ever been a few lines for fanning the flames, with nothing more than slight variations.

No matter how respectful the questioner's tone was, how humble their attitude, or how yielding their posture, the meaning they conveyed was only one thing: Hurry up and do it. What are you waiting for?

You weren't chickening out, were you?

If you didn't dare fight, just say so. Don't make it look like Bro was forcing you.

At that moment, within the gloomy hall, surrounded by countless solemn and savage reliefs and Giant Pillars, the throne atop the stairs was shrouded in darkness so tangible it was impossible even to make out the occupant's face.

Yet at that instant, a gaze with almost physical substance fell from the darkness upon those below the steps—sharp and cold.

"When I do things, I don't need you skulking fools telling me what to do. Whether we fight or make peace, I alone decide."

The Abyss Lord spoke impassively. "If you can't wait, you can handle it yourself. There was no need to travel all this way to provoke me. Or are you so lacking in cannon fodder that you need one to charge into battle for you?"

Below the steps, an emaciated, hunched figure lowered its head. Its voice was neither male nor female. Like a monkey, it scratched at its ears and cheeks. Paint swirled across its raised face, Emerging into a fawning smile, stiff and perfunctory.

"Though my identity prevents me from speaking with the Abyss Lord openly, since we have formed a contract, surely the Abyss Lord understands my heartfelt sincerity."

Old