"Pray tell me a greater battle that one would face against a stubborn master who continued to linger and not relinquish the remote to watch that damned cooking show?!" Libra howled as he wrote on the parchment.
"But so that my efforts would not be in vain, and so that the other Shining Ones would not fall to ruin, I fought in the battle! I damaged my liver to the point of death, and I don't even have a liver! All those ten excruciating episodes I demanded and wrestled with him, as Jacob wrestled with the Angel of the Lord! And if not for that perfectly flipped omelet that was set before the rice and became a perfectly executed Omu-rice, I would not have won him over! I grappled the remote and forced him to watch the next shows!"
Libra's spectral mist quivered with indignation, his writing carving into the glowing parchment with wild, slanted lines.
