"...Maybe lighting the room on fire straight away wasn't a — cough — a good idea?" Glenn said with his sleeve over his mouth, his eyes watering due to the thick black smoke permeating the whole building. The fire he started ended up being much more efficient than expected.

"Cough! It wasn't your wisest—Cough, cough! — wisest idea, Sir Glenn!" Montana sputtered with difficulty, his eyes similarly filled with tears. Glenn wanted to smack his lips but feared letting in more smoke in his lungs, hence why he didn't. He also wanted to reply to Montana that he was no "Sir", but he also gave up that thought.

The less he opened his mouth, the better he'd be.

'I can only agree,' Diamanes poked with a mocking laugh, the entity enjoying the entertainment way too much for his host's taste.

"Well, at least no one cares about you now," Nelg cheered, unaffected by the current situation. Indeed, due to the fire propagating himself and the thick black smoke, the literal army of Skinners in the building was too busy running around to notice the small group. More than once as they ran in the foggy corridors of this place they met a Skinner's squad, tensing up with their hands on their weapons, only for them to run past them toward an unknown goal.

Glenn entertained the thought of following them to try and find the exit for a few seconds, but the idea of having to fight the whole army at once didn't sound too great, so he gave up that thought as well. The issue with that is that they still couldn't find a way out of the place, and would soon end up either burned or smoked to death.

Not an enjoyable end, that's for sure. Just look at Montana, he sure seemed happy not roasting to death.

'Out of the frying pan, and into the fire...' Diamanes commented sarcastically, earning himself a sneer from his host. Glenn passed doors one after another, cursing each of them, deciding that from that day he hated labyrinths. And corridors. Cough! And stupid decisions, while he was at it. The corridor suddenly branched off in three directions, four if counting the one they came from. Glenn stopped, his heart racing and his lungs burning as he struggled to find a decision.

Liara's hand suddenly shot out of Sahro's black robe, pointing in front of them to go straight away. Glenn didn't have time to waste doubting her when her guiding hand had already proved its utility and sprinted in the chosen direction. The corridor tightened, only large enough for two people to stand side by side without touching the walls. Glenn wheezed and coughed, his frown deepening every time his team mimicked him by coughing up their lungs.

"At least you'll know better than to do that with barely a drop of Mana in reserve, next time!" Nelg scowled, soon followed by Diamanes.

'And hopefully, will also think twice about your Mana consumption. You could have achieved much better effects without using...' The entity went silent for a few seconds, '...without using that Infernal Blackhole. It would have been much smarter to use multiple Blackholes to cover more ground—' Diamanes couldn't continue as Glenn cut him off.

'Would multiple Blackholes cancel each other? Can I even conjure two Blackholes at the same time? Blackhole is a spell I need to continually maintain, would I be able to split up my Mana usage to fuel multiple at the same time?'

Nelg coughed lightly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Look, the theory-crafting should wait until you're in a place where you're NOT going to be cooked alive. Concentrate and get us out of here!" The sword pressed, as the only one of the three minds who was concerned with the master body's situation. Glenn shook his head and discarded the thoughts, choosing to follow his sword's recommendations. Right in time as well, as they arrived in front of a double door, decorated morbidly with the gravure of a skinned man stretched on a cross.

Glenn winced and pushed the door open, the cold wind pushing on his face. He breathed in deeply, before coughing up once more as more smoke crept up on him from behind. He quickly came out of the building, waving the smoke away, followed by Montana and Sahro, all coughing miserably. The wooden masks seemed to have been a great help to Sahro and Liara, but not great enough to completely filter out the smoke.

At least they were better off than him and the bard.

Lucky bastards.

The young man wiped the tears from his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling of clean air entering his lungs. Montana fell on his back and laid down, huffing heavily as he stared at the sky half-obscured by dark smoke.

"...So my turn hasn't come yet...Phew..." He muttered, intending it to not be heard by anyone. It didn't matter as Glenn still picked it up. But well, it's not like the latter cared. There was one thing that took priority over questioning Montana's secrets: getting the hell out of there.

And that's exactly what they did. They had come out in a deep part of the Red District, a particularly poor and lawless one. Thankfully, due to their...wild appearances, no one bothered them. Or perhaps it was the bloody clothes, the gleaming sword, or the sight of Glenn's face. Those were all quite powerful detergents in front of small-time thieves and bandits. It took a good quarter for them to get to safety, namely in the Cleaner's Workshop's embrace.

Glenn, Montana, and Sahro silently climbed the stairs up the Dormitory. Liara was still enjoying the ride on her fellow Black Heir's back.

"...Huff...I swear, I'm going to invent elevators or something or create my teleportation spell. What can I use, wormholes?" Glenn grumbled, tired and annoyed at having to climb all those steps. Montana was too busy choking on air to add anything, and Sahro was too concentrated on carrying Liara. They reached the final floor of the Dormitory, the Platinum floor. Glenn opened up the door leading to the hallway and went for his Fated Suite. He turned toward Sahro, who had to let Liara on the ground to open the door, his thunder arm unable to hold anything.

Glenn opened his room and turned toward Montana, who was staring at the luxury of the Platinum Floor with wide-opened eyes. The young man sighed, and hushed him inside, before nodding at Sahro. The Black Heir nodded back, before helping Liara to her feet and inviting her into his Suite.

"Alright, welcome to my place..." Glenn's face suddenly hardened and he stabbed a threatening finger in Montana's chest; "...No running away this time, or I'll track you and end you in a way so horrible you'll find yourself wanting to go back to the Skinner's place. Got it?"

Montana nodded hurriedly, standing awkwardly, not daring to go anywhere. Glenn ignored him and stretched, grunting tiredly.

"There are guest rooms, with bathrooms and all that, so just pick one. I'll go wash up and Meditate, feel free to explore the place. And please, stop staring!" He spat, before entering his room and heading straight away for the bathroom. He wanted to use a Mundare to clean himself, but he'd rather keep the little Mana just in case. A safety measure had never hurt anyone, after all.

After a long but enjoyable bath in hot waters, Glenn changed into comfortable clothes, some simple wide pants, and a similarly large shirt.

"Our escape was relatively uneventful when I think back to it. I wonder if we just burned to the ground the Skinner's nest. I'd sure be glad if I did, heh..." said Glenn aloud, the corner of his lips curved upward. He went and sat on his absurdly large bed, entering Meditation and concentrating on recovering his lost Mana. Half an hour later and with most of his reserves filled, he opened his eyes and left the bedroom, allowing himself to finally relax as he felt the power brimming to his fingertips.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

'It's always so reassuring being able to cast Blackholes whenever I want...' He thought, entertaining the thought of just casting one for the sake of it, before shaking his head. He had much better things to do than fooling around. He left his bedroom and found Montana sitting awkwardly on a sofa, rigid and tensed. Glenn blinked, before rubbing his eyes.

"...Didn't I tell you to wash up? I mean, I didn't say exactly go clean yourself up, but..." the young man gave up when he realized that just those words had made the bard flinch in fear.

"Do you have different personalities or something? You weren't such a scaredy-cat last time I saw you..." Glenn poured himself a drink as he talked from one of the many whisky bottles displayed in the nearby bar. He filled half the glass and stopped, scowling deeply, before shrugging and filling the glass up entirely, adding a few ice cubes for bonus cool points. He went and sat in front of Montana, holding the glass toward him.

"Here. It's not every day you're getting tortured. You deserve it."

The bard stared at the glass silently, before carefully picking it up and observing it a little more. Finally, he suddenly downed it all in one gulp, shivering and sighing as the alcohol burned through his body. Glenn smacked his lips as he looked at Montana's disheveled appearance and quickly used Mundare on him to make him more presentable. A knock followed by the door opening up informed him of Sahro's entry into the Suite, the Black Heir unbothered to wait for Glenn's reply.

"...It sure feels good to take a bath after this whole mess," Sahro said as he went and freely chose to sit on one of the sofas, leaning up with a grunt of happiness. Liara was trailing up behind him, and went and sat on an armchair, her hands on her knees and her face emotionless. She didn't have her mask anymore, and was wearing a fresh set of clothes she must have borrowed from Sahro, much too wide for her. Glenn smiled as he tried and compare Javier's silence to Liara's, before shaking his head.

'No, Liara's just traumatized, she can't be compared to Javier. This guy's dead inside...'

A few minutes of silence passed as they all enjoyed the calm after the whole mess this operation had been until Glenn broke the silence by slapping his thighs.

"Alrighty, this was a whole lot of fun, but let's get to the meat of it, shall we?" He grinned and looked at Montana, who shivered under his gaze. He looked away, his eyes stopping momentarily on Glenn's purple arm.

"So, Montana, I do have a few questions I need you to answer, and after that, you're free to go. How's that?" Glenn proposed, his arms opened. Montana nodded silently, his face pale.

Glenn moistened his lips, thinking for a few seconds about the questions he wanted to ask him. Sahro stood up and went ahead to pick a few glasses in the bar, alongside a bottle of a fine-looking wine. They were all fine-looking though, so there probably wouldn't be much of a difference.

"First and foremost, something struck me back when we first talked to each other. You see, I have it from good sources that back when you first stalked us, you were also at the Twilight's Inn, performing your best songs. That's pure curiosity asking though, but you also don't have a choice but to reply," Glenn asked, his eyes gleaming with said curiosity. Montana looked left and right, pressing his lips together when Liara looked back silently at him. Finally, the bard sighed and gave up.

"I..." he gulped, as if he couldn't bring himself to speak, "...I have a power, but you mustn't reveal it to anyone, alright?" he sniffled, his hands joined in a begging manner. Glenn creased his nose and shrugged.

"We'll see about that. What power?" He asked coldly, his eyes piercing through the bard, making him shiver.

'What intransigeance! A presence of steel! A true tyrant!' Diamanes mocked, almost succeeding in ruining Glenn's poker face.

'I'm trying to figure out if he's friend or foe, alright? I'd much rather have it be a power instead of a fucking stalking organization. Yet another one! Would imagine that shit?'

'Im mean, you probably got the Skinners on your ass, now.'

'I was masked, why would they...?'

'Sahro? You're friend with their worst enemy, that's reason enough.'

'...Meh, maybe. We'll see, and in the worst case I'll just Blackhole—no, Infernal Blackhole their ass away in the sun.'

"...I'm so impatient to watch a hundred-to-one fight!" Nelg suddenly added with excitement. Glenn rubbed his temples and concentrated back on Montana. The bard bit down on his lip, before reluctantly extending his arm in front of him. Glenn watched silently, his arms crossed. Sahro sat back down and gave a glass to Liara and Glenn each, before serving himself a generous drink.

The bard's hand suddenly shivered and became blurry, something suddenly growing out from it. Glenn's eyes widened and he leaned forward, his eyebrows raising higher with each passing second. The growing...thing suddenly fell off Montana's hand and plopped on the ground like some weird slime. A cloud of steam puffed out from the thing, and something grew once again from it, sprouting up at the naked eye. At first, it looked like some kind of strange flesh abomination, but as time passed, the flesh thing shaped up to be Montana's exact copy, only he was naked.

A few minutes later, two Montana were sitting on the sofa next to each other, one shivering fearfully with all his clothes on, and the second grinning widely with his...features prominently displayed, leaning on the sofa comfortably. Glenn blinked and pinched his nose, at a loss as to how to react.

"...Cloning, then. Interesting..." He moistened his lips, before thinking of how expensive the couch the naked Montana was sitting in, "...but get your balls off my sofa!" Glenn yelled out, pointing at a nearby room. The naked Montana shrugged and stood up without shame, before walking away.

No one noticed Liara watching silently, blushing slightly. The fearful Montana sighed, bowing deeply.

"I...I apologize for my... other me's behavior. That's why I'd rather not use him most of the time...He's all of my bad sides..." The bard rubbed his face, unable to keep the shame off it. Glenn scratched his chin, curious.

"How does this work? He's not a mindless clone, and has his thoughts and quirks..." pondered the young man aloud. Montana finally stopped hiding his face in his hands, instead reaching for the alcohol bottle and pouring himself a drink.

"...It's not a clone, instead..." He gulped down the drink, shaking his head as the heat reached his brain, "...he's more like an Avatar."

Glenn raised an eyebrow.

"An Avatar?"

Montana nodded as he placed the glass back down on the small table.

"Yes, an Avatar. He has half my soul, and is as much me as I am him. I call him Split, but he's as much Montana as I am. Confusing, right?" He chuckled dejectedly, before shaking his head. Glenn rubbed his chin, wondering whether he could use that Avatar stuff. He may be able to get rid of a problem plaguing him for a while now...

'What? Did you call me a...a fucking problem? I'll show you what a problem is, you brat!' Diamanes spat, appearing in Glenn's left palm with clenched teeth. The young man didn't waste a second and closed his hand, casting a Silence Curse around it. Using Diamanes' powers had become second nature to him, and he didn't need the hand's permission to use them now.

"So, how do I get my Split then?" Glenn asked casually. Montana opened his mouth, before closing it again, a dejected smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, but you can't...I'm unique in that sort, haha..."

Glenn smacked his lips, before shrugging dismissively.

"Well, that's that. I kind of expected it...Too bad, too bad..."

Montana's depressed expression changed to incomprehension and he leapt to his feet.

"What, you're not going to force the truth out of me?" The bard asked in disbelief. Glenn looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Listen, if you don't want to tell me, so be it. I have enough problems on my plate already, adding another me to the list might not be the greatest idea. So whatever, you know?"

Montana opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't, speechless. He fell back onto the sofa, sinking into the soft fabric/leather. Glenn had no idea what material made the couches, but they sure were comfortable.

"...These madmen roasted me alive to try and force me to invent a way to split their souls, and you're just giving up like that...Sorry, it's just too much for me..." The bard apologized, before pouring himself another drink and emptying it promptly.

"...Don't drink yourself to death yet. I also have a question to ask you..." Sahro suddenly leaned forward, his thunder hand linked with his normal one. Montana turned toward him, smiling tiredly.

"Fire away..."

And fire away Sahro did.

"What was that bullshit about me being Glenn's subordinate? What that Skinner said, back then, what was that about?"

Montana paled and looked at Glenn, who whistled casually while looking at the ceiling, avoiding the bard's inquiring gaze.

"I, uh, I thought—"

"Well, you thought wrong!" Sahro exploded, startling the bard, "I'm not, and will never be this dumbass' minion! Did you even take a look at him? How can I be the servant of someone who looks like that?!?"

Glenn turned back toward the Black Heir, frowning.

"...What the hell did you say, you ugly bastard?"

"What did you call me?!?"

As Glenn and Sahro were about to go at each other, prideful Montana suddenly came out of the room he was thrown in with a black kimono. His eyes brightened as he heard the conversation and stepped in, impatient to add his grain of salt.

"Oh, but that's because Sir Glenn told me to do so specifically. I still remember: "For your next song, don't forget to say that Sahro's my lackey. He's very proud of it."

Silence befell the room, and Glenn slowly turned back to look at Sahro, gulping heavily as he tried his hardest to contain a laugh. A vein popped on Sahro's forehead, then another. The white mark on his forehead gleamed slightly and sparks of electricity ran down his left arm, crackling silently.

"...You're fucking dead, Glenn."

Liara chuckled slightly, her laugh as clear as crystal, lighting up the ember that ignited the fire of hell upon Glenn. As Sahro jumped toward him, the young man had only one thought.

'Well, that was worth it.'