“Hello again, my one black friend,” said Ibai. “You seem to be having a hard time.”
Hector grunted as Ibai set him down. His freshly regenerated lung squished against the stone floor, not yet having a rib cage to protect it.
“I’m sorry it took us so long to come help,” the aberration went on. “I’ve been a bit busy, what with all the sabotage and so forth. But now we’ve got a moment to rest.”
It made sense, Hector realized. “You’re the reason the Marauder couldn’t find Darktide and the Seadevil.”
“That Caster guy.”
“Oh, him. Yes. I figured Abolish would go for them first. They are our strongest combatants, but they were also unconscious and vulnerable. If I didn’t hide them and wake them up, this battle would have been a foregone conclusion, I think.”
Hector understood. He wondered if Ibai’s sabotage hadn’t also had something to do with their assailants no longer being invisible.
“Where is your reaper?” Ibai asked.
‘Here.’ Garovel’s skull peeked up through the floor.
“Please come with me,” said Ibai.
“To gather the non-combatants. I would like to take as many as I can to safety, and your help would be appreciated.”
He’d just about finished regenerating and was trying to find his footing again. In truth, he still felt a little woozy. His thoughts were largely clear, but there was a certain light-headedness that was throwing him off. “Sure,” he said.
“...Are you okay?” said Ibai.
Hector closed his eyes, concentrating. “Yes,” he said. When he opened them again, Ibai had no pants on.
The aberration stood there in his underwear, offering his belted trousers to Hector. “You should have these.”
Hector’s own pants had been shredded, of course, along with his shirt. The left leg was completely gone, and Hector didn’t need to look down in order to tell that half his junk was hanging out.