Incarnate ^8001 leapt in potent fright at the call of a boisterous voice.

He turned frantic, hunting for the source, but he failed to find it!

Who had spoken just now?

The Incarnate had almost fallen into the conical pit, only managing to stifle his fall because of memories of precise body control from his past life!

His breath hastened.

His hearts' rates hastened.

'What... what was that?!' he thought, his cheeks turning light pink.

"You have gazed upon me before, little bold soul. Follow my shadow and gaze upon me once more."

At once, the Incarnate recognized who... what was talking to him.

The shadow he just heard mention of, was the shadow casting itself into the conical pit from the statue – fuelled by the mysterious light that spawned without an expected source from the sky.

For a moment, the Incarnate made to obey the command of the statue - to cast his gaze on the statue once again - but he stopped himself at the last fraction of a second.

'No, no, no! I can't!' he thought, not even giving himself time to comprehend just how he could understand the language the statue spoke.

"You will not look at me? How dare you?!"

The boisterous voice came again, a little louder.

Incarnate ^8001 began to sweat profusely.

The statue was speaking to him, and it now seemed angry.

What was he to do now?

He thought to do nothing.

During the very few moments in his life when he had met the King, the Queen, or their spawn, he had found that when having committed folly that enraged them, the worst thing you could do was continue to talk back.

Higher-ranked soldiers kept their traps shut, and he had learned to follow suit.

The same was best for this situation, he judged.

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"I see. How stubborn. You remind me of a few very unsavoury moments and persons, little bold soul," the statue said, a hint of mockery swimming in its voice. "Very well. Answer my question at least. Why do you pity these gullible fools?"

The Incarnate gulped.

He didn't think there was much room for silence now. The unsubtle way in which the statue had almost convinced him to look at it confirmed to him that gazing upon it meant defeat.

What about conversing though?

"Speak! Let us converse!" the statue said once more, rattling the Hollow Demonling's bones a little.

The Incarnate answered, though while dreading what might happen.

"I...I only pitied the soldiers."

There was a pause.

A furious burst of laughter then erupted, startling the Incarnate.

"Hahahaha! You relate to them, do you? You must have also been a fool who died for nothing in your past life, with no profundity whatsoever. To think the Bahathraden welcomes someone like you."

Incarnate ^8001 remained silent, weathering through the ridicule.

His sights had been set on the ground the entire time, but he had seen none of the sand sitting around his feet because of his anxiety.

'Should I just continue to stand here?' he thought before scrambling his intent. The enemy seemed capable of reading his mind, somehow.

After a stretch of mirth, the statue spoke again.

"None who have passed here – and those are few and far between – have ever shown pity to these fools, only curiosity. That is also to say the few that have managed to pass by me weren't normal men in their lifetimes," it said before sneering. "Most of them all fell prey to what comes after me. Unfortunately, I am yet to see why a feather like you thinks he deserves to make the world tilt on its side!"

Incarnate ^8001 realized belatedly that the sand around him hurriedly began to feed into the pit, carrying him into it!

"No!" he cried as he fell. He was forced to panic even more when he saw that under the sand this whole time, there were thousands more skeletons which he scraped and knocked against as he tumbled!

The situation seemed treacherous, but the Hollow Demonling did not allow himself to fall into despair. Not yet!

He realized that his fumbling sight almost fell upon the statue once again, and he gritted his teeth, grabbing a piece of cloth ripped from a fallen worshipper, and tying it around his eyes. The fabric was loose, allowing him to see the things before him to some degree, which appealed to what he intended. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Incarnate ^8001 desperately clawed at the sand, kicking against much of it in order to attain some semblance of balance.

"Just take a look at me, little bold soul. You will not escape this place if you don't! Let me put your frail will and wiry soul to rest! Yours will not take a moment to devour, not like your fellows who still cling on to their bones!"

The Hollow Demonling felt hopelessness surge.

What was he to do?

When he thought he had made some progress against the tide of sand, a mass of it pounded against him, flinging him towards the mass of skeletons in the midst of the pit!

Soon, he was buried among them; he was joining those whom he had pitied.

Incarnate ^8001 struggled intensely but to no avail.

There seemed to be no hope.

He had no opportunity for breath. No prospect for reward.

He was now going to die again with the wide face of mirth of the fat man looking down at him.

'What kind of fate is this?!' he screamed in his mind.

"YOURS!" the statue screamed from above, its voice muffled.

The Incarnate kept clawing at the sand, but he soon felt suffocating despair.

It was over.

His choice was foolish.

Perhaps he shouldn't have faced the statue head on, after all. Perhaps he really should have gone around.

Perhaps he should have chosen the path to becoming a Handsome Prince.

Yet...

Right when the Hollow Demonling surrendered to a dire fate, he felt something hard grip him by the wrist, and pull him with immense strength. For a brief moment, the Incarnate was no longer trampled under mounds of sand.

Before he could see what had pulled him, he heard a sorrowful voice speak in his ear and was blinded by the glowing tablet at the same time.

"Thank you for mourning us, however little, for our foolishness..."

[Maestus, the King's Right Hand channels the dwindling remnants of his will into you]

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