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You rolled your eyes and begrudgingly followed Liberty.
<span class="mu-s">“Looks like I'm getting that sales pitch after all. You guys need to work on your hospitality. The last cult that I was brainwashed in was much better with that type of stuff.”</span>
The Headmaster paused mid-step, and then tilted their head to the side. For some reason, that statement had provoked a reaction from them. And that fact hadn't been lost on your little tour guides.
Both Hulkette and Liberty were shooting odd glances your way, as well as communicating between each other through a series of not-so-subtle looks.
They were both likely wondering how you‘d managed to grab the attention of their boss so quickly. You were honestly wondering the same. It might’ve had something to do with the wholesale slaughter of their forces by your hand, but that was just your personal opinion.
Although, you were starting to see why Ben liked riling people up as much as he did. It was an oddly satisfying social probing tool.
<span class="mu-s">“Full points for the clone army discipline, though. That was pretty creepy.”</span> you said, glancing around at them.
<span class="mu-g">“They're not 'clones'.”</span> Hulkette casually mentioned.
Your blood went cold, and you nearly missed a step as your mind reached the eventual conclusion that Hulkette was leading you towards.
Did that mean…?
<span class="mu-b">“They're sort of like zombies?”</span> Liberty offered, regaining some of her previous energy as she spun around in mid-air to look you in the eye. <span class="mu-b">“They all signed contracts saying that we're legally allowed to use their bodies after they pass on. So none of them really have souls.”</span>
You blinked at her. Zombies? Did they have a necromancer on staff?
<span class="mu-b">“You're right about them being creepy, though…”</span> she said with a shudder.
Hulkette nodded her agreement, her eyes still facing forward.
A complicated mix of emotions ran through you, at that moment. You felt a flood of relief upon being absolved of any bloodshed.
Not in the literal sense, but real, meaningful bloodshed. You'd still managed to repaint the inside of that cabin and dye what little remained of your costume with the stuff. You were practically wearing it.
But you also couldn't shake the feeling that you shouldn't have been so quick to deal lethal damage to an opponent you knew nothing about. More than that, you'd been so quick to shrug off your guilt.
You were feeling guilty about <span class="mu-i">not</span> feeling guilty, even though Khonshu didn't admonish his followers for spilling blood in his name. Frankly, he encouraged it when it was the blood of the unrighteous. It was considered a form of worship by his warrior priests.
Marc had no qualms about killing people who he thought deserved it, and you always told yourself that you wouldn't either.
(Cont.)
