Imhotep was questioning his life.
More precisely, he was questioning it while getting beaten.
"Am I not the Chosen One?"
His bald head scraped back and forth across the floor, and the High Priest of Death stared blankly.
When you could settle things with your fists, you should say less. That was the most important lesson Klein had learned on the Berlin Streets in his previous life.
Could he really just explain things nicely and expect the other guy to hand over the Necronomicon?
Dream on!
"Is it too late to cling to the strong one now?"
There were advantages to hiding in a corner.
At least you were less conspicuous.
Benji nervously squeezed the pile of amulets around his neck and began considering his escape route.
He had thought Imhotep was invincible, but then an even more formidable man had appeared in the blink of an eye. His bright future had suddenly been shrouded in the shadow of misfortune.
These days, even being a hanger-on wasn't easy.
"Do you submit?"
The conjured hand rapped Imhotep on the head. Klein asked without expression.
Imhotep said nothing. He simply tried to channel his magic and fight back.
"Do you submit?"
Another heavy blow left Imhotep seeing stars. Klein seemed to be running out of patience.
"Hmph!"
His head could be severed and his blood spilled.
Even when scarabs had eaten him alive, he hadn't surrendered. Why would he give in now?
"Roar, what spirit!"
Imhotep was a tough man, and Klein wasn't surprised.
You needed guts to steal a pharaoh's woman.
The hearts of villains were far stronger than you might imagine.
"If you won't submit to me, then I'll find someone who can make you submit."
Holding the Necronomicon, Klein had nothing to fear.
The gatekeeper of the underworld had