The Third froze mid-struggle. His eyes darted everywhere, panicked and confused, unsure whether agreeing or lying would get him killed faster.
"...N-no?" he squeaked.
The tendrils tightened. Bones creaked.
"YES! YES, FINE! I AM!" he scread. "I trap! I trap people! That’s my job, damn it! I make little spaces, I torture people inside them, I laugh. So die. So don’t. What the fuck do you want from ?!"
Damon smiled. "So then let’s talk about what is or who is waiting for outside this dinsional fragnt? What would I be walking into when I use that portal?"
The Third went dead still. Even bound like a pig and half-crushed by tendrils, his face drained to a sickly gray. His eyes darted toward the swirling exit as if it were the maw of so ancient beast waiting to swallow him whole.
"...W-waiting?" he croaked. "What do you an by waiting? No one’s waiting! Why would anyone be waiting?! I didn’t call anyone!"
The tendrils squeezed. CRACK.
"AAGHHHH! OKAY, OKAY!" he shrieked. "STOP! FUCK! OKAY!"
Damon’s expression didn’t change. "You called soone."
"I DIDN’T!"
Another squeeze.
"Okay, okay, I DID!"
Damon raised a brow. "Who?"
The Third trembled so violently that it looked like his skeleton might flee his body. "I... Pretty much everyone in Umbra’s hand is there outside waiting for you, alright? I... I... It’s not personal. This is just how things are always done. I trap and I bring the person to the base. The others in the order take care of everything after that. My role ends right here."
Damon’s smile turned sinister. "So even after all this, you were setting up. Hmmm."
The Third’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. "N-no! Not setting you up! I an, yes, technically, but it’s not like I wanted to! That’s just how the damn job works! I catch, they kill, well, interrogate, well, usually kill, but that’s not the point. This is not personal. You cannot bla for this. I cannot open a portal to anywhere else."
The blood tendrils tightened slightly around his ribs. And then so more. And then so more. The blood began to turn a shade of poison. The Third felt it in his bones. A soft burning. A creeping numbness. A rising terror.
His scream ripped out instantly. "Don’t kill , you maniac. I really can’t do it. I only have so much control over this space. Maybe ask this goddess next to you! I am not lying, you monster. Trust this once, please?"
Damon tilted his head. "You seem confused about your bargaining position."
"I’M NOT CONFUSED! I’M DYING!" the Third wailed, thrashing helplessly. "Please! Please! I told you everything! What else do you want?! Just say it! You want my baby, don’t you? You want my dinsional space?"
"Let see if I understand," Damon said softly. "You trap . You plan to deliver to your cult. You warn them I’m coming. And now you expect to just... walk out obediently into your ambush? And by the way..."
"What dinsional space? This thing?" Damon flicked his gaze toward the tiny floating platform under their feet, barely twenty ters of half-mangled reality clinging to existence by Azuna’s golden threads. He smiled coldly. "You an this scrap?"
The Third let out a choked sob. "Yes! That one! It’s all I have left!"
Damon blinked slowly. "Azuna," he asked, "is this still considered a dinsional fragnt?"
Azuna tilted her head. "Technically, yes. In the sa way, a burnt matchstick is technically still wood."
The Third whimpered. "Why would you say it like that..."
Damon ignored him entirely. "So..." he continued, again starting from the beginning. "You set an ambush for . You lured here. You inford your entire order. You ensured that the mont I step out, I walk straight into your kill zone."
The Third flailed weakly, glaring at Damon through tears and blood. "I said I’m sorry! What more do you want?!"
Damon stared at him. "Transfer this dinsional fragnt to ."
"Huh?" The Third blinked.
"Make its new owner." Damon casually said.
The Third smiled bitterly. "You bastard. So you do want my baby, after all. Even after all this mocking, you still have your sights set on my baby! Don’t you have that one? Is she not enough for you? Why do you want my little precious? You freaking psycho!!!"
"Transfer it." Damon flatly said. He had an inkling that this small scrap fragnt might still have so connections with Umbra’s legacy, but he did not have to spell that out for the enemy.
The Third opened and closed his mouth like a frog dropped onto hot sand. "...Are you serious right now? After everything? After cutting, slicing, chopping, and butchering ninety percent of my ho, now you want the remaining ten percent?!"
Damon tilted his head. "You owe ."
"I OWE YOU?!" the Third shrieked. "I trapped you, yes, okay, fine, but you killed so many of my n! You broke my dinsion! You shattered my mirrors! You... You... You turned my life’s work into a floating teardrop of misery!! And now you want to own it?!"
The blood tendrils tightened.
"GAAAHHH! Fine! Fine! I take it back! You don’t owe anything! You can have my firstborn if you want!"
Damon’s voice remained calm, even patient. "I want the fragnt."
The Third started to cry. "Of course you do. Of course. Because this is my karma. This is my punishnt. I should have kidnapped a normal person. A rchant. A farr. A toddler. ANYONE BUT YOU."
Damon’s gaze sharpened. "You’re stalling."
"I am buying myself emotional recovery ti!" the Third scread. "This is traumatic!"
Azuna, still weaving stabilizing threads like an artist touching up a canvas, gave him a flat look. "Insect. Do as the master says." The blood tendrils pulsed with approval.
The Third gave a bitter smile as he looked between the two and then sighed in defeat. "I need so help, though."
***
Mass Release sponsored by Sgtcwby
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