Heir Of Azathoth : EXtra's Limitess EvOlution-Chapter 35: Reasoning

"And...?"

The Lethyrae leaned closer, tantalized, its suspended frame shifting slightly as the cords above tightened in response, while its many eyes hawked in separate directions, each tracking something I couldn’t see.

"You didn’t even tell me," I continued, the words spilling out before I could properly order them, irritation bleeding through despite myself.

"...What I’ve even done to make you drag me to Nirvasthla. Fuck. I don’t even know you, what about that? Does any of this make sense right now? Do I sound like I’m making sense?"

The Lethyrae scowled, several of its eyes narrowing while the rest remained fixed on me, as though its attention had fractured in on itself.

When it finally spoke, the words came slow, half-minded, weighed down by something unspoken.

"Names... are rarely given lightly," it said, voice layered and uneven, "but you may call me Nagra."

A brief pause followed, its tendrils tightening, and then loosening.

"As for what you have done..." it continued, the grin not returning this time, "...even I do not yet know the full shape of it. That much I will admit."

Its eyes shifted again, sharper now.

"But understand this, something disastrous has already occurred. Not by intent, perhaps. Not by knowledge. Yet you were involved. Of that, I am certain."

I nodded in acknowledgment, not because I agreed with him entirely, but because worsening the situation any further would have been pointless.

I knew, for a fact, that the Lethyraes did not bother with anyone unless it was necessary, and that alone told me enough.

If they had come for me, a nobody by every existing metric, there had to be a solid reason backing it up.

Furthermore, it wasn’t as though I could truly refuse Nagra in the first place.

Humanity, over the years, had learned one thing well, to remain heartfelt and giving toward the Lethyraes.

They were precious allies, irreplaceable ones.

I was certain that if Nagra chose to approach the authorities instead, it would not take long at all for a bill to pass declaring that I was to be handed over to the Lethyraes without resistance.

At least now, I was going of my own accord. Honestly, that alone made it far better than the alternative. However—

"Alright. I’ve decided,"

I spoke up, my voice steady, decisive, slamming my fist against my other palm almost instinctively.

"Nagra, I am willing to follow you. But... I too have some conditions."

I did not avert my gaze as I continued, choosing my words carefully but without hesitation.

"I want you to negotiate with the Rebel Church on my behalf. Of course, it shouldn’t be anything difficult for you. You only need to ensure that I’m not kept under constant supervision, and, well... provided the degree of freedom I’m actually shown, I’ve—"

I paused briefly, then waved it off, "and a few other minor things I’ll mention along the way as I remember them."

I finished with an odd enthusiasm that, for reasons I couldn’t quite place, seemed to strike a nerve.

His face darkened instantly, and a heavy pressure descended upon me, thick enough to press against my chest.

"Don’t you think you’re being too greedy, human?"

Nagra said, his voice sinking lower. "You would do well not to step past your limits. I dislike spoiled brats the most."

I retorted instantly.

For some reason, I was certain he couldn’t kill me, at least not yet.

Or perhaps, more accurately, if he had the authority to do so, he wouldn’t have wasted time conversing with me at all.

He would have dragged me along without a word.

No one would have cared enough about an orphan to object anyway.

"Nah," I said, meeting his countless eyes without flinching. "I think I’m asking for too little."

Then, after a brief pause, I added, my voice edged with something sharper, something darker, "And let me remind you, I’m not a spoiled kid. I’ve lived through the worst of lives."

I exhaled slowly.

"Two lives, even."

Though I kept my tone controlled, the faint undercurrent of rage and irritation due to his choice of words was impossible to hide.

There was no reaction from Nagra at all, as though he was genuinely weighing my words, turning them over with careful deliberation rather than dismissing them outright.

That silence alone was unsettling. But before he could probe any further, before that scrutiny sharpened into something more dangerous, I spoke again, unwilling to let the uncertainty fester.

"Wait," I said, my voice tightening just slightly, "if you truly don’t even know what I’ve done, then what’s the point of taking me to Narvthala?"

I scoffed faintly. "I don’t hate tortures, but they’re still not on my wishlist, at least."

At that, Nagra’s grin widened.

Not naturally, no, it stretched almost cynically, as far as his face would allow, skin pulling taut, his eyes shifting just a fraction under the strain, as though the expression itself demanded effort.

"That..." he said slowly, "...well, you will soon figure it out, won’t you?" 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

He brought his hands together, clapping them once, every limb moving in eerie coordination.

In the same instant, the organic tendrils anchoring his body snapped loose from his shoulders and back.

"Wait. I forgot to ask one—"

I growled the words out, stepping forward as his suspended body dropped, rushing toward the ground. But before it could truly land, before I could finish my sentence...

The shadow at his feet stirred.

It loosened first, stretching thin, then peeled away from the ground as if someone had lifted wet paint with a blade.

The darkness slid outward, spilling across the andestine and the air alike, gathering beneath the nearest walls and corners.

It thickened there, deepening, its edges sharpening until even the surrounding shadows bent toward it, drawn in against their will.

Then black tendrils rose from the pooled darkness and lashed out.

One coiled around Nagra’s ankle.

Other, pierced through my own shadow, pinning it to the ground like a living thing.

And then, the world tilted.

My body lurched violently toward the shadow, bones stretching, limbs smearing into overlapping afterimages, a sense of vertigo threatening to wash over me.