A statue. A statue of Chriseis replaced the general's body.
"DAFUQ!" This time the expletive came out of his mouth corroded by rancor. "I knew there was some shady plot going on here. And… there is something wrong with that prosthesis! There is something wrong, god."
Hermes sighed heavily.
Alexander, whose self-assured personality had lost its luster since the god's arrival, said,
"It's true. Chriseis always knew there was something wrong with her prosthesis. She said that… 'It had whims.'"
"I sense I'll have trouble reporting this…" the god spoke to himself, quietly. But Glax asked him,
"You are so fast, why didn't you collect her soul as soon as she died?"
"Ah, do you expect me to make a public appearance every time I have to harvest a hero's soul? And then ... I couldn't find the orb, actually."
Glax blinked. "Is that what you went to do that time? In the forest of Valosia?" He mentioned the dream he had, about Glax's near death, interrupted by the god's meddling.
