Somewhere in the Spirit World.
Whoosh.
Ince Zangwill stopped in a relatively empty, safe spot to take a brief rest.
He turned his head and looked behind him.
The mist hung still. The demigod from the Numinous Episcopate had not caught up; it seemed he had shaken them off along the way.
"Hmph..."
At the sight, a faint smile appeared on Ince Zangwill's face.
But he soon lost the ability to smile.
At some point, the classical white Quill at the hem of his robe had floated up on its own and begun leaving lines of writing across the fabric:
"The foolish Ince Zangwill has made the wrong choice yet again."
"He naively believed he was valuable, and that although [Greed] was using him, she would give him some compensation in return. What he failed to anticipate was that, to [Greed], he was merely a disposable stand-in puppet whose sole purpose was to draw that great being's attention away from her."
As Ince Zangwill read those words, his expression shifted rapidly from surprise to disbelief, then finally to extreme rage. "Shut up!"
He roared and reached for the Quill, intending to forcibly stop it from writing and revise what it had already written. But the classical Quill deftly dodged his hand, floated into the air, and continued writing without pause.
The words appeared out of thin air, gleaming as they delivered their merciless mockery:
"Ince Zangwill's stupidity astonishes the Quill of Alzuhod. He is not merely a clumsy, third-rate writer, but a pathetic, laughable failure."
"The good news, however, is that he no longer needs to worry-because he has very little time left."
"That great being has already set his sights on him... he cannot escape..."
"Stop!"
Ince Zangwill bellowed. His robes billowed violently, as though something invisible were writhing