“No — hold that thought.”
“As you command.”
Ouroboros withdrew, expression deeply unsatisfied. As expected of demon-realm nobility — “kill him” apparently appears on the default options menu.
Her face was dead serious, too. If I’d given the go-sign, odds are…
Setting that aside — Miyamoto blinked at her, baffled.
“Huh? Wait, you’re… NOT interested?”
“Correct. I respectfully decline.”
“Huh? Why? I’m objectively better than this old guy, right? Young, hot, AND a hero?”
Let the record show, Miyamoto: “hot” is contested.
Guys like him got weirdly popular with a subset of girls in school purely for being delinquents, and it clearly rewired his self-image.
Also, for the record: that archetype exits school, enters society, and is never taken seriously by a functional woman again.
“C’mon, c’mon. It’s just coffee, yeah?”
And Miyamoto grabbed Ouroboros by the right wrist.
This guy… is he planning to drag her into the tent?
More urgently — BAD! Multiple veins have surfaced on Ouroboros’s temple!
I did put a hold on the killing, but this may genuinely exceed the hold’s rated capacity.
And right then—
“Ufufu~ a RECORD catch~♪”
Sonya and the palm-top rabbits arrived, dragging one titanic boar.
The instant Miyamoto laid eyes on Sonya—
”…Is something this cute even ALLOWED to exist?”
—he broke into a full sprint straight at her.
And opened with this:
“I’m a hero! I’ll keep it short — become my woman! Money, status, all of it, whatever you want!”
Miyamoto… even for a pickup, words are supposed to be a craft.
Sonya giggled — “fufu” — and delivered one flash of a kick.
“Ufufu~ this person is REALLY disgusting~♪”
“PBLARGH!”
Miyamoto rocketed away at ballistic speed and slammed into the cave wall.
Correction: INTO the wall. He is substantially embedded.
“I kicked a disgusting person, so now my foot is dirty~♪ I’ll wash it thoroughly later~♪”
Delivery: fluffy. Face: undisguised, profound revulsion.
Fair — getting abruptly hit on by an idiot gap-toothed blond would genuinely disgust anyone. My deepest sympathies, honestly.
Then Ouroboros walked over to the wall-embedded, twitching Miyamoto.
”…MY honor is of no consequence. But moments ago, you slandered my Master as garbage. Do you recall?”
She seized Miyamoto by the collar and peeled him out of the wall by brute force.
Then, holding him suspended one-handed, she continued:
“Are your affairs in order? Do you maintain an up-to-date will? If those tasks are unfinished — my condolences. Abandon hope regardless.”
Apparently, in Ouroboros’s legal framework, Sonya’s kick constituted my go-sign.
“However—”
Ouroboros smiled — bottomless, and utterly freezing.
“I will permit final words. Kept concise. Twenty characters or fewer.”
”…”
Miyamoto did not respond.
He’d been knocked unconscious by Sonya’s kick, apparently.
“You style yourself the strongest hero… and one strike from Sonya renders you UNCONSCIOUS?”
CRACK — Ouroboros’s open palm detonated across Miyamoto’s face.
“Agih?!”
The slap worked as smelling salts; Miyamoto’s eyes fluttered open into blank confusion.
“You stand nowhere NEAR ‘strongest.’ Setting aside my Master and Lady Cornelia — even I would require no more than five seconds to erase you.”
And then the metronome started — CRACK, CRACK — Ouroboros administering full-swing alternating slaps.
“Agyuh!”
—CRACK
“Bugih!”
—CRACK
“Gugih!”
—CRACK
“Jajjuh!”
—CRACK
“Joh!”
Miyamoto’s cheeks inflated in real time, blowing well past mumps into uncharted territory.
Oi oi — his face is turning into a manga effect.
Ah. A tooth just flew past.
Gross — I turned my face away and let the tooth sail by.
“Fo… fogive be… blease fogive—gyah!”
—CRACK
“The pleading of worm-grade filth does not register.”
And the alternating slaps resumed.
—CRACK
“Abibah!”
—CRACK
“Pugih!”
“Is THIS the mouth that insulted my Master?”
“Bugurah!”
“Is THIS the mouth that hellfire should cauterize?”
“Mugerah!”
“Is THIS the mouth that should be confessing to Lord Anubis in the underworld this very instant?”
“Shtop… blease shtop— GUBERAH!”
Ah. That one was a right straight, directly to the bridge of the nose.