The cold light of the candle on Madela's head danced in the wind, yet its flame never once faltered. She tilted her head, a gesture brimming with feigned curiosity and genuine menace.
Madela: "Entering another person's abode without permission isn't a very nice thing to do, you know~ Especially when that abode is a branch of reality I've only just planted."
The Sheepman Sailor exhaled a thick plume of smoke from his pipe. The smoke did not disperse, but hung in the air for a moment like a phantom before finally vanishing. The giant gull wings that cloaked his body rustled restlessly, releasing an ancient scent of sea salt and decay.
Sheepman Sailor: "Very well. Do you wish to settle this here?"
His voice was a low rumble from the ocean floor, a vibration that made the air around them feel heavy and dense. For a moment, all the sounds from the village below—the shouts, the gunshots, the clang of metal—seemed to dim, swallowed by the gravity of the challenge just issued.
Madela raised her hands in a highly theatrical pose of surrender, a playful smile gracing her lips.
Madela: "Oh, no! No! You would snap me in two like a dry twig!"
She then lowered her hands gracefully and glanced down at her little stage of blood and chaos. Her nonexistent eyes watched as Oldred used his steel arm to shatter a cultist's mask. Madela sighed, not a normal breath of relief, but a long, drawn-out exhalation filled with an almost erotic satisfaction.
Madela: "Ahhh, this adrenaline. How obscene… I just 'came' a moment ago. That raw wave of tension, the untamable rage, and the pure survival instinct felt so… divine. Oldred is truly a five-star host!~"
She said it with not an ounce of shame, as if commenting on the quality of a fine wine. Madela giggled, a sound as clear as a glass bell, covering her mouth with her palm.
Madela: "I'm starting to ramble, aren't I? But honestly, my dear sheep-head, I'm impressed… and intensely curious about you."
Her gaze sharpened, piercing the skull mask. Madela's floating black hair and the tattered hem of the Sheepman Sailor's dark coat fluttered together in a single, cold gust of night wind.
Madela: "If you hailed from this branch of reality, it would be natural for you to have no destiny I could read, as everything is still premature and chaoti . But you… you entered my World of Histories before this world even existed. Without my permission. You are a ghost in the system of fate, just like Oldred."
Madela began to circle the Sheepman Sailor with a graceful, slow, and deliberate pace, like a shark circling a strange new prey.
Madela: "The difference? Oldred has no more than one possibility. He is an anomaly of certainty. But you? You shouldn't even be here. There isn't a single valid thread of fate connected to you at all. You are an impossibility."
Madela then stopped directly in front of him and framed the Sheepman Sailor's skull with her fingers in a mocking "camera" gesture.
Madela: "So… are you the 'Polgha' who's always the hot topic in Oldred's books?"
Madela paused, letting her question hang in the cold air, observing every detail of the figure before her.
Madela: "I think not. In Oldred's books, Polgha is always described with a feminine pronoun~ And if you really are her, hmm… congratulations on your cosmic sex-change operation. Becoming a 'Sailor Baphomet' is a bold choice."
Madela's slow, sarcastic applause echoed for a moment atop the tower. The Sheepman Sailor just continued to stare at her blankly, his dark eye sockets seeming to swallow all light and emotion.
In the dark alley below, Nu'al, glancing up, felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night wind. She felt so small, so insignificant, as if she had just eavesdropped on a conversation between a mountain and a storm.
Nu'al: "Who… who are they?..."
Finally, the Sheepman Sailor spoke.
Sheepman Sailor: "'Polgha'? Heh. I see. So… that is her new skin?"
His words were not directed at Madela, but at the sky, as if his gaze could pierce the moon itself.
Sheepman Sailor: "This 'Polgha' you speak of… you will realize it one day. When you can see beyond what you can comprehend."
The Sheepman Sailor then took a deep breath. With one powerful flap of his mighty gull wings, he launched himself high into the sky, leaving behind a few soft white feathers that drifted down like sad snow.
Sheepman Sailor: "The past is yours to know. But the present… the now is mine to claim."
His words echoed in Madela's ears before his figure disappeared completely into the embrace of the starless night sky.
Madela: "Trying so hard to be cool. He must have some 'Slowed + Reverb' track playing in his head."