In the small side chamber, a Fire Man and an Armored Figure stood silently. Though neither spoke, their gazes seemed to pierce through the walls and look into the distant void.
Cigarette smoke and its scent filled the air. The faintly pungent haze matched the firelight perfectly.
Deathstroke looked at Olini beside him. Finding no beauty at all in features resembling a Halloween pumpkin head, he looked away and said, "To save the people of Faltine, please debut as an idol."
"???"
He could understand every word. It was Chinese from Earth, after all. But put together, it made no sense.
Olini's head spun rapidly atop his flame-formed body like a colorful light, as though he were thinking. After a moment, he asked, "What is an idol?"
"Someone who makes a living off their looks. As long as you can sing, rap, and play basketball, you qualify." Su Ming took a drag from his cigarette and spoke slowly, wearing the expression of someone remembering something unpleasant.
Olini's black-bean eyes widened slightly, and his tone was puzzled. "I do not know what basketball or rap are, but they sound like activities called art. Aren't those things only material races enjoy?"
"Faltine has already tacitly approved your pursuit of material things. From now on, with my help, Faltinians will enter a new era. Matter and energy will advance side by side. Only then will you have a broader future."
Deathstroke waved a hand, signaling for him not to worry about such details. He tried stuffing a cigarette into Olini's mouth, but the little stick caught fire from the filter end and turned to ash within seconds.
Rather than being disappointed, Su Ming was delighted. Olini had naturally mastered the ultimate technique of smoking backward. Looks like he could take the comedian route.