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“Wait. Berserk Archer.” You whisper just loud enough for the young man to hear your response. He seemed sharp enough that he could take your meaning from it.
“Just a moment, if you would!” You say as you raise your hands gently and address Kuro no Lancer’s Master, “Let’s not be hasty, Father.”
“Hasty?” The man in robes echoed in curiosity.
“You wanna sue for peace right after your chum tried to assassinate me?” Wukong (or Qitian Dasheng as he called himself) asked rhetorically, “Quit dreamin’, retard!”
That’s the first time someone was blunt enough to straight up call you a retard. It stung a little, even though you knew Wukong had an abrasive personality. Maybe the dark clouds gathering overhead were dampening your mood, but you continue in an even tone, “We could miss the bigger picture if we let things get out of hand, please hear us out.”
“Do you seriously think I don’t know stalling when-, what?” Wukong responded, before looking at the bearded man at his side for confirmation and asking, “You’re cool with it, Master?”
“Da.” The hooded priest confirms with a nod, before addressing you in a slow and methodical tone, probably to make his intention clear through his accent, “But I require small concessions from you.”
“Go on.” You say.
Pointing at Avenger, he instructed, “First, shatter that glass on the ground.”
“Fine.” She said as she tossed the potion vial onto the asphalt, shattering it, before telling you telepathically <span class="mu-i"> “I can easily make another one.” </span>
“Now to get the ‘big picture’ as you say, tell us your names, a few details about yourselves, and how you came here.” The priest instructed, “Then we shall do the same.”
“And you lose points if you’re boring!” The little girl next to Caster of Red piped in. At this point you noticed that she seemed to have a few markings reminiscent of tattoos on her forehead and neck, though you had no idea of their significance.
“Points?” You repeat, hoping the girl is just joking around.
“I’ll start then.” Rushorou asserted. Hopefully he and Truvi can buy you enough time to think up an excuse for not having very much remembered life experience to draw attention-grabbing anecdotes from. “My name is Yumigawa Rushorou, student-council president at Hibiya High. I-”
“What does a student-council president do?” The little girl interjected with eager inquisitiveness.
Recovering the minor slip in his composure after being interrupted, the boy continued, “I manage my school’s student council, which is a group of students who organize and carry out school activities and service projects, allocate funds for clubs, and act as the voice of the student body, sharing student ideas, interests, and-”
