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“Fine.” Geoffrey waved his hand, and the man in the chair sprung up and leapt on Hector, thrashing and biting.

Hector flung him off, but not before Geoffrey ran past. There was nothing between him and the reapers. They split up, and Geoffrey went after Bohwanox. Hector pursued, but they were too far ahead. Geoffrey reached out, and it seemed like Bohwanox was still far enough away, but from Geoffrey’s hand, the same red shadow flew forth, jagged and fast, and it slashed the reaper’s backside.

‘Agh!’

“I just want to touch you!” Geoffrey laughed.

Hector was there. He grabbed Geoffrey by the collar and threw him against the wall, keeping him pinned there. He glanced at Bohwanox, who was turning over in the air. “Are you alright?!”

Ghostly black-and-white smoke rose from the wound. ‘I-I’m not sure,’ he said, grimacing.

‘You’ll recover,’ said Garovel. ‘But you need to leave now. You’ve done all you can here.’

‘Y-yes, very well.’ Bohwanox disappeared through the wall.

“Hey, where did he go?!” said Geoffrey. “Come back! I was not done!”

Hector made a fist and punched him in the face with all his strength. The wall cracked behind Geoffrey’s head.

But the red shade was there again, and when it vanished, Geoffrey’s face remained untarnished. “Your attacks hurt,” said Geoffrey, “but they do not wound. Not like this.” He speared Hector through the chest with a red-coated hand. Blood flew everywhere. Geoffrey’s hand stuck out of Hector’s back, clutching an extracted heart.

Bleeding from the mouth, Hector did not move. “...You were saying?” He headbutted him, reared back, and kicked Geoffrey through the wall.