It could hardly be called intimidation. This fledgling [god] did not even possess consciousness, much less a physical form like Nian's. Its manifestation resembled Shamare's split personality more than anything else. What an embarrassment to gods.
"Let me think..."
Hoshino cleared her throat, tucked the Iron Fists under both arms, and extended a hand toward Shamare.
"Could I speak with your Little Morte alone for a while? I may look like this, but it isn't my first time communicating with spirits of nature."
She had thought of something interesting.
If even a god could be born from the emotions of a little girl like Shamare, then had the one atop the snowy mountain existed since ancient times, or had she been born from the snow mountain believers' daily prayers?
It was truly worth studying.
She had always wondered why that god had protected Kjerag for so long. Now that she thought about it, perhaps she had been born to guard the snowy mountain itself?
The two were mutually cause and effect. After thousands of years of entanglement, it was already impossible to distinguish which came first.
Hoshino could only focus on the present.
Shamare fell silent, seemingly seeking Little Morte's opinion. Hoshino drew her blade half an inch, and Shamare promptly raised her head, her eyes filled with confusion.
"For some reason, Little Morte... stopped talking."
"So it shut down just like that?"
Hoshino felt half an inch was far too little and simply drew half her blade. Jizo Mitama flickered with flames, a blinding deep crimson.
Shamare nodded.
"Little Morte says you can talk, but wants you... not to kill her?"
Now that was the proper attitude for negotiations.
Hoshino nodded in satisfaction. Her hands did not leave the Iron Fists, nor did she shift her gaze to the