"We meet again, Mystra." Solam propped his chin on his hand and looked at Mystra before him with a peculiar expression. Well, a bald, green-skinned Mystra looked rather strange.
After confirming that the one contacting her truly was Solam himself, Mystra readily descended upon Valentia. Naturally, this descent was limited—she had not sent all of her will, merely the will of one of her avatars into Valentia's body.
No matter what, Solam was a demon now. Although, according to Solam, there was a reason he had become this way, Mystra was no naïve fool. How could she possibly believe him completely? (The most important reason angels were called the spokespeople of gods was that they could bear divine will. If a god descended into a mortal's body, it would greatly drain that mortal's soul and life force, whereas angels did not suffer from this drawback.)
Because only part of her will had descended, she carried little divine power with her. Thus, Mystra had not wasted power changing her form, instead borrowing Valentia's body and appearance.
It had to be said, this look was truly flashy. Every time Solam saw it, he inexplicably recalled an antique film from his previous life called Shaolin Soccer. One of the actresses ended up looking like this—a huge bald head, smooth and gleaming, incredibly comical. The contrast with this generation's Mystra and her stern style was immense.
"Solam... is that really you?" Although Mystra had confirmed through matters known only to herself and Solam that the person before her was indeed Solam, his drastically altered appearance still left her somewhat uncertain.
Solam lowered his head to look himself over, then shook his head with a bitter smile.
"I didn't want things to end up like this either, but unfortunately... forget it. The world is unpredictable.