The Shape of the Soul
Hearing what the other two said made Anos sigh.
'So that's how most of my incarnations acted… confidence bordering on arrogance.'
The thought drifted quietly through his mind as he looked between Azriel and Budha.
Honestly, he could understand it.
Strength naturally bred pride.
A being who stood at the peak of countless worlds would never easily lower their head. Especially incarnations like Azriel, whose very existence radiated overwhelming confidence and battle mania.
Still…
Anos rubbed his temple lightly.
'Overreacting this much over a bow and one "please" is ridiculous.'
The white world around them remained endless and silent, like a realm detached from reality itself. No wind. No sound. Just an infinite pale horizon stretching forever beneath their feet.
Azriel finally stopped laughing after a while, though the amused grin still remained on his face.
