Stray

Medes stretched out his hand with only bones left, as if he wanted to touch Oliver, but as soon as he leaned out a little bit, he took it back as if it was burning with fire. He stood quietly in place, not saying a word in the cracking sound caused by the rapid expansion of the Lock of Pain.

“Mr. Medes,” Oliver called softly, with some soothing meaning in his tone.

“Of course I can tell you.” Medes finally spoke again though the volume was extremely low. “You have the right to know this.”

Although the necromancer had no body, Medes felt as if he had suddenly rapidly aged. “…But since you want to ask this, that is to say, Flint… he… didn’t want to tell you?”

The bone hand grasped the hem of the robe, and there was a bit more despair in the voice of the Necromancer who foresaw the answer. “Flint, is he okay?”

“My father passed away not long ago.” Oliver lowered his head. “In order to protect our town, he forcibly transferred a demon summoning ritual.”

“…Was he killed by the demon?” Medes tore the edges of the robe with bone fingers carved with black charms, as if he wanted to tear his soul apart.

“No. After the transfer ceremony, he asked me to kill him in order to send the demon directly back to the Abyss… So I killed my father, Mr. Medes.”

Medes stopped tearing the corners of his robe, he stretched out his bony hand and patted Oliver’s head cautiously— The movement was so light, as if Oliver was a fragile item that would dissipate from a touch. Their similar heights made this behavior look a little weird, but Oliver didn’t avoid it. He looked straight into the empty red eyes.