Chapter 1542 (2/2)

Laying in his shelter, DiOrtho grimaced. He didn’t like it, but his exposure to the Ghosthound’s image had changed something fundamental about his image. It was as though there was not an unfamiliar soul housed within his body. The sensation was disquieting.

Shaking his head, he turned to look at Raymund. Honestly, he could use the distraction. The Vulpine’s fur was messy and his eyes were downcast. “You look like shit.”

“Advisor Zauna humbled me… with her fist,” Raymund chuckled weakly. There were deep bags under his eyes. “It appears my actions have deeply affronted her. My weakness… is my own fault. I understand that. But all the avenues to improve myself that I have taken appear to have been the incorrect decisions.”

“Huh…” DiOrtho said noncommittally. The Darkstar Coin was heavy in his pocket.

They sat in silence for almost thirty seconds before the emotionally exhausted DiOrtho began to get annoyed by the fact that Raymund Ballast just stood next to his shelter with his head bowed. Raindrops the size of pins continued to tinkle downward, rustling the grass and gradually soaking through Raymund’s fur.

Honestly, the fucker was horribly depressing. DiOrtho was horrified at the thought that he had appeared similarly, while he was considering his own problem.

The ram demon’s mouth twitched. “...why the fuck are you just standing around here then? Go nap or something. We have physical training in less than an hour. With how feeble your attitude seems… heh. It’s going to be a rough session.”

To DiOrtho’s surprise, Raymund just nodded. But then he raised his gaze and huffed out a breath from his nose, spraying away some accumulated rainwater on his snout. “That is… that is why I approached, despite the fact I understand my presence troubles you, DiOrtho. On the subject of desire… I have met none who indulge themselves as fully and truthfully as you do. There is a purity to your actions that I… well, that is your strength. I hope you can offer me some advice on this matter. Please.”

As he listened to Raymund's talk, DiOrtho gradually tensed. “You wish… to learn about desire from me…?”

Kill them all. Then end yourself. Return to oblivion, start again. The cycle is endless-

“Pah. You really are a fool.” DiOrtho hissed. As his emotions stirred, the machine horror seemed to click with excitement. It was an extremely aggravating feedback loop. Made much worse by the water-logged annoyance standing in front of him.

Right when DiOrtho resolved himself to get to his feet and beat the shit out of his Squad Leader to work off some steam, there was a pulse from the central training area: the Overseers had something to announce.

DiOrtho gave Raymund a look that was dripping with venom, but the Vulpine didn’t seem to notice through his clouded eyes. His squad leader was clearly still too deeply concerned with his own issues to even recognize how close to being smashed into the ground he had come. And that obliviousness only served to trigger DiOrtho further.

...which only increased the joyful calls for destruction from his image, which forced DiOrtho to calm himself, lest his image rise unbidden in his chest. Snorting, he shoved Raymund roughly. “We are summoned. Don’t just daydream.”

“Huh? Ah, yes.” Raymund mumbled.

With a vein throbbing in his temple, DiOrtho led Raymund back toward the central training area. Most of the recruits had already gathered because the physical training would begin soon. Despite the previously somber atmosphere cast over the group after Djark Quewn had turned out to be some foreign spy, the recruits were all talking excitedly with one another.

Glancing around, DiOrtho ascertained that no Overseer was present, especially Overseer Helen. He could release a light sigh. Somehow, he sensed that her antagonism would only worsen the state of his image. And without her present, he felt no qualms about letting loose a bit.

DiOrtho harrumphed, releasing a bit of his barely controlled image in the process. Those nearby winced and stumbled backward, opening a path for him to simple noticeboard that had been erected. He strutted forward with his chin raised, while inwardly examining the image pulse he had released. Whatever the Ghosthound did, it certainly made my Skills stronger… the only problem is that it’s that much more difficult to control… fuck, and it keeps making me think about ending myself…

Raymund drifted along behind DiOrtho like a malevolent specter with business in the mundane realm. His eyes were blank and bleak, staring at nothing. DiOrtho did his best to ignore his soulless squad leader and quickly scanned the announcement. The more he read, the more he barred his teeth.

“Heh, good news for you,” DiOrtho spat out over his shoulder at Raymund. Gradually, the man blinked and looked upward. DiOrtho inclined his head toward the announcement. “Two tournaments, individual and Squad. The winners will be tutored by the Ghosthound himself, guided on the use of images. If he can straighten you out, no one can.”

And he’s the one that caused this fucked up change in my image, DiOrtho pressed his lips together. He better be able to fix his mess.