Damian looked up at the figure, waiting for an answer that didn't come.
Snow continued falling between them, each flake landing without sound.
'You… won't answer me?'
The figure remained motionless, that black energy continuing its endless writhing around its form.
Damian's hands unclenched slowly, blood still dripping from the cuts in his palms.
"Ever since the Beggar told me everything about this novel..." His voice came out calm, almost conversational. "The strongest beings in my mind have always been the Demon Rulers and the Divine Rulers."
He looked up at the clouds drifting across the moon as snow gathered on his shoulders.
"But after truly coming to this world, after living through everything that's happened to me..." His voice came out barely above a whisper. "Time and time again, I've come to realize that the most mysterious being, the one whose powers I couldn't even begin to imagine..."
His throat worked.
"Has always been the Beggar."
