When Ruger returned to his towering mount, the old demon was still immersed in joy—though there seemed to be a great deal of surprise mixed into it as well. Once his delight had passed, the old demon hung the blood-colored bone tag around himself, then tossed the other two rotten bone tags to Ruger and the two-headed demon.
Ruger silently accepted it and hung it from the tattered hide wrapped around his waist.
He glanced sideways at the two-headed demon. The huge hole in its chest had already begun to heal, but the missing heart had left it terribly weakened. It was only putting on a fierce front now. It did not dare show weakness before the other demons. Perhaps when it had rolled around on the ground, wrestling and brawling, that had merely been to hide the fact that it could not get back up for the moment.
Ruger reckoned that, right now, this thing might not even be Mahama's match.
Two blood crystals, each a little larger than a fist, fell from above and were tossed to the two-headed demon, which was forcing itself to remain calm.
Seated upon his mount's shoulder, the old demon had shown an eerie burst of kindness.
The two-headed demon's four eyes immediately lit up. It caught the blood crystals and stuffed them into its mouths. One head crunched its crystal to pieces, while the other swallowed its own whole in an exaggerated gulp without even biting down. Just as they swallowed, they seemed to remember something and secretly turned to glance at Ruger beside them.
Ruger noticed its gaze but ignored it, watching the battle below while studying his own hand.
Patterns similar to those on his chest had spread onto his hand, allowing him to manipulate malice there with such ease.