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“Boy,” said Gohvis, “tell me your name.”

It took a second for Hector to realize that the question had been addressed to him. “Ah--uh. Hector Goffe.” That was dumb. He should’ve just made up some bullshit.

“How are you still alive, Hector Goffe?”

“Er... good question. Dumb luck, I think.”

“No such thing exists,” said Gohvis. “Destiny controls all.”

“...I disagree. There’s way too much pointless shit in the world for that to be true.” What the hell was he saying?! Who did his brain think it was talking to?! His body knew to be terrified, but his brain--

“Why are you here?” the Monster asked.

The question went unanswered, however, as Ibai teleported behind them and promptly vanished with Chergoa, Shenado, and all of the Elroy children.

Gohvis growled, and then he too was gone, just like that.

Hector was left standing there on his own, feeling like some kind of asshole. Precisely what kind, he wasn’t sure.

It was then that he realized Garovel wasn’t in the room with him, either. ‘Garovel, where are you?’

‘Very far underground,’ the reaper said. ‘How’s it going up there?’

Hector saw the man in yellow looking over this way now. ‘Terribly.’

‘How terribly?’

That question went unanswered as well, as Hector’s attention was consumed by the Salesman’s tilting head and curious expression.

“I’ve never seen a black Rainlord before.”

“Ah--I’m not a Rainlord,” said Hector.

“No? Unfortunate to find yourself here, then. Don’t tell them I said anything, but I think the Rainlords might be a little racist.”

“They seem pretty nice to me,” said Hector. Maybe his brain wasn’t paying attention to what was happening. Or maybe it just wanted to get him killed.