Chapter 41: Familiar foes
"So, you finally decided to wake up?"
Irwin looked at Ambraz before nodding dumbly.
"I thought I was going to need to search for another smith a few times. Daubutim wasn't mistaken. If you hadn't slotted the Coperion Skin card, you would have died. What were you thinking, jumping on that Bablibon?"
Irwin shivered as the chaotic moments of movement and chaos replayed themselves. Wait, hadn't he been deafened? He raised a hand to his ears, feeling crusts running from them down his neck.
"Don't worry. Your ears are fine, just some punctured eardrums," Ambraz said.
Irwin was quiet, staring at the bits of scab on his fingernails. He'd almost died. Would his mother ever find out what had happened to him if it had? Would she even survive what was apparently happening?
"How do we stop this world from shattering," he asked, staring at the Anvil. He realized the question had been bothering him for a while now. He just hadn't paid much attention to it with everything that had been going on.
"You don't," Ambraz said matter of factly. "With how fast this world is destabilizing? You would need the full cooperation of hundreds of thousands of carded to clear all of the portals as fast as possible, and even then- It might be too late."
Irwin knew his mind was still not recovered. At least, that's what he thought was going on, as he was surprised by how quietly he accepted the news without panicking. Instead, he shook his head.
"There has to be something we can do. We can't just be doomed," he said. Part of him wished he could always be this calm.
Ambraz quietly observed him for a while, and Irwin saw the Anvil's lips moving on occasion as if he wanted to speak but was holding back.
Irwin decided to calmly wait while he still could. An infernal itch was starting all over his back, and he hoped the wounds weren't infected. He'd seen one of the rangers with an infected hand once, and he'd lost three fingers before his cards had helped his body fight off the infection.