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I recalled Tani’s question as I raised my gauntlets to shield my face from the unrelenting torrent of bullets.
Yes, I had replied. I feel sad when the Fomors die. Tani’s expression of shock was such that only a Milletian could make. I continued. The Fomors are alive too. Of course I would be sad... all life matters.
One of the tiny succubi darted forward from the rest of the group, giggling. Before I could react, she pressed one of her dual guns under my ribcage. There was a flash.
I rolled from my new position on the floor to take cover behind a brazier. I quickly checked my wound. No blood—there would still be a bruise, but my armor had dampened the initial shock from the blast.
Yes, all life matters, even if it’s as annoying as you fiends.
Their giggling echoed as they took up positions on the other side of the brazier. Each breath I caught filled my lungs with the aroma of intoxicating incense, designed to strip me of my mental defenses. What were they waiting for? Then I noticed the tall, elegant, and beautiful succubus standing over me, studying me thoughtfully. I stood slowly and held her gaze.
The reason why we are drawn to one another is because we understand one another. I became strong to protect the people I care about. Now I know you are the same way. Your subjects are emotional and unruly, but you care about them. And there is a reason why you use illusions to mislead adventurers:
When adventurers die in the dungeon, do you feel sad?
