"Though your choice of words was a little—yes, that was roughly what I meant," Rofocale said.
"Then why doesn't he just rig it so I draw his ability?" Roland curled his lip. "It's been ages since I drew anything useful."
"Perhaps he has something in mind." Rofocale shook his head. "That's not something I would know."
"—Fine." Roland didn't think Rofocale was playing the Riddler. It was incredible enough that he knew this much.
"Then—may I leave?" Rofocale asked cautiously.
"Not so fast." Roland looked out at the sea. "That fellow still doesn't seem convinced."
Just then, a burning star fell into the sea. The blue waters turned ashen white, the waves heaved, and Harab, severed in two, began swimming again.
The third angel sounded his trumpet, and a great star, blazing like a torch, fell from heaven upon a third of the rivers and the springs of water. The star was called Wormwood. A third of the waters turned bitter, and many people died from the bitter waters.
—Book of Revelation. "Bitter Demon King Yin Chen," Roland said. "Looks like he wants to try his hand against me too."
"He used to be king of the aerial host, a fallen angel like me," Sariel said. "—He's very mysterious. We worked together for years, and I still couldn't figure out where he came from—or why he fell."
"So being a fallen angel wasn't why you got ostracized." Roland nodded.
"Why do you always focus on such strange things—" Sariel pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Sariel? I never imagined you had such a good eye," Rofocale said, looking at him in surprise. "Or that you were so bold."
"Spend some time with him, and you'll get used to talking like this too." Sariel curled his lip.
"Really?" Rofocale wasn't convinced.