The forest clearing was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the wheezing breaths of Silas. The poor bastard lay propped up against a log, his limbs bent at angles that defied anatomy thanks to Ignotus's "Bone Breaking Theory."
He was left barely conscious, floating in a haze of agony.
Ignotus sat cross-legged right next to him, poking Silas's shoulder with a stick.
"So... about this mysterious Death Demon. Did it have a cool robe? Something you'd commonly see in the Third Stratum, or no? I feel like those types always wear the best fabrics."
Silas groaned, his eyes rolling back.
'Hm. So I can't even infer answers from his expression? His eyes didn't get stuck like that before... Does that mean that I was getting close, and the Demon is from the Second Stratum?'
He began to theorize from the little that he had, but—
Swish. Swish. Swish.
The air suddenly whistled.
