I woke up to the sensation of being… carried?
Warm arms, one under my knees, the other one under my back, holding me carefully like I was made of some fragile glass. How dare they?
However, that alone told me something was wrong. Blurry vision as I opened my eyes, and I stared at his blobby silhouette blankly.
Cyrus didn't do gentle.
Not unless I was half-dead.
My head throbbed like Wrath had punched my brain from inside. My ribs burned. My skin stung. And right before consciousness fully settled, I heard it. A super low, rumbling whisper curling in my skull like smoke. Haunting
"Little Hellfire…" Wrath. Of course it had to be him. The first voice I heard after nearly dying wasn't Cyrus', or Gena's, or Akira's.
It was Wrath's booming ego.
"Next time, don't scream at me with my own power," he crooned with amusement. "You have a tendency to overdo things."
"Oh, shut up…" I muttered weakly.
Cyrus jolted slightly. "Roxy?"
