"Is that man sitting on its back the legendary [Dragon Rider]?" "So there really are people who put lounge chairs on dragon backs. I thought that was just a—" "Shut up! Do you want to get eaten by the dragon?!"
"But that guy's a holy Knight, right? holy Knights should all be pretty decent people."
"That's just your preconceived notion. Don't judge people by their profession!" "Fine, but a holy Knight really did save my brother."
Though the adventurers of the [Sword of Victory] had been frightened to the point of collapsing onto the ground, it was clear they did not feel much of a sense of danger. After all, they were still chattering away.
The holy Knight seated atop the enormous rock dragon gradually moved farther away. Though he had not agreed to their request, he had not shown any displeasure at their obstruction either, as if they were merely weeds by the roadside, not worth even a second glance.
What they did not know, however, was that they had simply asked at the wrong time. If it had been at another time, they would most likely have encountered a sunny, cheerful young man instead.
Dark would not have minded helping with something as trivial as assisting an old lady across the street.
It was just that he was currently immersed in his clumsy imitation of [Sloth], making him somewhat unhinged and instinctively reject any problem that required a "choice."
But one could not live without madness. He had to immerse himself in it. "Rising unstained from the mud" was a fine aspiration, but he had to let himself be stained by mud.
Only by truly being stained with "mud" could he understand "mud" and become "mud."
As for whether he could ultimately extricate himself from that "mud," that