For some reason, as Ruger reached this thought, he threw his head back and began to laugh, as though he had realized something amusing, or perhaps simply needed a release. His distinctly crazed laughter echoed through the Spell Practice Area, building into wave after wave of sound.
But Ruger believed his mind was still clear. He knew he was laughing; he simply found it difficult to control, and did not want to force himself to stop. The slightest amusement in his heart spilled out unchecked. He was beginning to understand those demons who possessed considerable intelligence yet still could not suppress their rage, and once again offered his deepest respect to the intelligent demons who could control their emotions.
Without realizing it, he began to infuse his laughter with distinct fluctuations of mental power, a technique he had never mastered before.
Lying on the floor, Green cautiously covered his ears.
Ruger noticed, but did not stop. Amid his repeated peals of laughter, a strange opportunity arose. He began blending the Word of Flame, which he had spent all day shouting at random, into his endlessly echoing laughter. His mental power grew extraordinarily active as he laughed. He had always wanted to incorporate the Word of Flame into everyday speech, and now he had a chance to seize that fleeting sensation.
But things did not seem to go as smoothly as he had hoped. His unrestrained laughter still failed to achieve his goal.
He glanced at the pitch-black, pointed wine cup in his hand, and a thought stirred. His Shadow Servant rose from his shadow, silently picked up the bottle, and slowly poured its wildly laughing master a cup of his homemade Sour Mushroom Wine.
He raised the black cup and gulped down a small mouthful. The movement was exaggerated, though