"Ah... Ubisoft's new Game is disgusting. It actually makes players launch missiles at Angels. This is blasphemy! A blatant insult to my Lord! I, Webber Forstain, swear that I'll make every last person on the development team pack their bags and leave."
Webster's mind raced, and he immediately launched into an indignant tirade.
With his teeth clenched like that, he looked as though he bore the Game development team a grudge that could never be forgiven.
As they listened to Webster roar and watched his performance, many of those who had been teleported here with him were filled with admiration.
With acting like that, the Oscars owed him a statuette.
"The perception my Lord granted me tells me you're lying," Lisa said evenly. Holy Light slowly surged up behind her.
There's no talking to someone who can tell whether every word I say is true.
Seeing that his lie had been exposed, Webster edged backward without changing his expression. Now that lying had failed, he naturally had to get somewhere crowded and safe. If the Angel attacked in anger, at least there would be people to shield him. But after retreating, he was stunned to find that the people around him had quietly moved several meters away.
How could you do this to me...?
Webster stared at these "friends" who usually chatted and laughed with him, his eyes blazing with anger.
Everyone he looked at averted their eyes, without the slightest trace of shame.
You caused this yourself, and now you want us all to face it with you? You've got to be kidding!
Don't pretend that wasn't your plan.
We're all old Foxes. Who do you think you're fooling?
While they schemed against one another, the soldiers Simon and Lisa had protected outside Saint-Ang Cathedral grew furious. They glared