'This was exhausting.' Michael thought tiredly.
'You are quite the monster; it appears I have been underestimating you all this time.' The ragged voice of Devil's Tongue rang out in his head.
'Why am I hearing you talk? Don't tell me something stupid like you have fused with my subconscious.' Michael said.
'You imbecile, there is nothing of the sort! It's just that you are refusing to let go of me even after having your arm broken.' The soul weapon explained. Even in his passed-out state, Michael's hand was gripping the hilt of his weapon tightly.
Sighing inwardly, Michael continued. 'Do you see anything? What is happening to me?'
'...'
The weapon was silent for a few seconds before answering bitterly.
'You are one lucky fucker.' Devil's Tongue said, unwilling to elaborate.
Leaving the weapon aside, Michael focused on waking up. Soon an unbearable pain assaulted his senses again.
