“Of course… they’re all me.”
When I said that, House Lizard strolled over to the shelves and grabbed a book off one of them. He brought it to the desk, held it by the spine, and gave it a good shake. Pages came loose and drifted down onto the wooden surface.
For a moment, all I heard was white noise.
It wasn’t exactly shock. More like a full system crash—that specific kind of numbness when your brain realizes it can’t process the sheer scale of disaster, so it just… shuts down.
The world shifted in an instant, snapping into focus as a room tiled in sterile white.
House Lizard looked down at the white lab coat now draped over his shoulders and let out a low chuckle.
"Well, this is awkward. I may be a doctor, but not the medical kind."
To think my missing arm turned into a key scenario item... it’s actually unbelievable.
The thought was so ridiculous, I almost laughed.
Is that why the Saint kept staring at me earlier? Was he sizing me up? Trying to decide if the rest of me was worth harvesting too?
I stared at the paper crane. I hadn’t meant to give it a name, but it had apparently taken it that way.
The more pressing issue: how the hell do I cancel making this thing my Servant?
I have no idea.
Pandomonium’s gaze snapped to mine. For a moment, the world fell silent—and in his eyes, I saw my own confusion staring back at me.
“...Your system window. Did it look like a busted calculator?”
“Yeah. Glitched to hell. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Well, that was a conversational hard left. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing.
The answer? The guy standing right behind me had stabbed it. Period. End of story. And it wasn't some distortion, reality-bending situation, either.
Andrea had no idea I was a Watched One. How could he, really? Even if he suspected that Fabio had some hidden backstory, the last thing he'd expect was me walking through his door with freshly minted divine power.
Pandomonium held the paper crane upside down, letting it dangle in the air as he kept talking.
“Don’t believe a word out of this guy’s mouth. He’s just trash-talking me to save his own skin. That’s his whole thing, always assumes whoever's winning must be on his side. Petty and no pride whatsoever.”
Did the Helper really become my Servant? No, that didn’t feel right.
With Pandomonium or Callister, I could sense a genuine connection. But with Trembly? Nothing. All I had was the faint trail of spit clinging to its paper body, letting me track where it was. That was it.
Looking at the scene playing out in front of me, I had to admit it was completely ridiculous.
The paper crane in my hand was going absolutely nuts—thrashing around like some kind of pissed-off breakdancer, its shabby wings shaking with what I could only describe as pure, concentrated rage.
“Fabio, don’t!”
A tiny hand shot out, snatching the purple poppy from my fingers and hurling it against the stone floor.
“You can’t just eat strange things you find on the ground!” Callister’s small face scrunched tight with worry. “You’re a god, Fabio, but a young one! You have to be careful! What if you get sick?”