CXXVIIII. | 'Hold true...'

There was only one thing that Hector knew Ivan wanted. One thing that Hector could hold hostage.

"If you kill them... then I won't fight you," said Hector.

Ivan let out a laugh. "What?"

Hector knew he couldn't let up. "Listen. My power. It's too volatile right now. If I use it here... then... everyone will die, anyway. It would be... ah, it would be the same as just letting you kill them. That's why I haven't intervened. That's why... I didn't kill your Marauder, even though I could have. Obviously."

The Salesman just kind of blinked at him.

"So," Hector went on, "if you want to fight me, then we can't do it here. We have to go somewhere else. And you have to... leave these people alone."

Ivan looked over their audience another time before returning to Hector. "For a second there, I almost believed you. Playing up to my fun-loving bloodlust. Smart. Thing is, though: it's been done and done and done. So I'm just not buying it. I'm a stingy customer in that way. More of a seller, you know. Ha."

"I'm not lying," Hector lied. "I don't care what happens to me. I'll let you kill me or capture me or whatever. And then you won't get the fight you want."

"Nah. You won't do that. Even if you do have a power that puts your buddies at risk, you wouldn't just let them die."

Hector glared at him. "You don't understand how dangerous my power is."

The Salesman met his gaze evenly. "Hmm. And what is this oh-so-dangerous power of yours, exactly?"

Garovel could've helped with that one. Hector very much wanted to consult the reaper right now, but there just wasn't time. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted. So instead, he said, "What's yours?"

"Ha. Do you know what the weak interaction is?"

With hesitation, Hector shook his head.

"Then there's no point in explaining." He turned to the Lord Blackburn again. "What's his power?"

"...I-I don't know," said Ismael.

"Mm. Well, at least you were honest."

The blue cage converged. A flash consumed Ismael's body, and then the man was dust. Dead. As quickly as that.

"No!" Hector yelled. "I told you--!"

"Relax," said Ivan. "It was only the servant. The reaper yet lives." Another blue cage came through the same hole in the wall, this one holding a reaper. "See?"

And Hector wavered. His focus. His resolve. He didn't know if he could just stand here and watch what was about to happen.

But he had to. He couldn't act emotionally now. If he made a move, did anything stupid, then everything would have been for naught. It was clear enough that the Salesman at least partly believed him--otherwise he would've attacked Hector already--but the man in yellow still had full control of the conversation.

"Tell everyone your name," said Ivan.

The reaper in the cage groaned but didn't answer. Hector felt the air grow heavier again, but still, the reaper remained silent.

"This one is resilient, too," said Ivan. "Well, that's fine. As it so happens, information is my great hobby. Everyone, this is Rholtam. He is the reaper for Ismael Blackburn. Rholtam is one of the oldest remaining Rainlords. One of the first generation. Not many of those left. Isn't that right, Rholtam?"

The reaper gave a slow nod.

Hector had to try again. "Stop this. I won't fight you unless--"

The cage converged. A blue flash annihilated Rholtam in an instant.

Hector's breath caught, and his face grew hot with anger. This was worse than torture. Having to watch this motherfucker kill people? He couldn't hide his scowl, and after a few moments, he stopped trying to.

Ivan just stood there, though. Observing him. Waiting with that look of expectation. Hoping for Hector to do something.

Hector resisted. He seized his mind back, his calm. And with it, he took the opportunity to talk to Garovel. 'Stay away. I might be captured by the Salesman soon.'

'Hector! What are you--?!'

He had to block the reaper out again. Even that stray thought in the back of his mind--the one asking how he was even capable of blocking Garovel out--that had to be ignored, too. He needed all of his concentration for whatever Ivan said next. He couldn't miss anything. Not a word. Not a movement. Not anything.

Ivan folded his arms. "I guess you didn't care much for those two. Alright. How about Darktide, then?" He turned toward Melchor.

"Stop!" said Hector. But he was powerless as he watched a cage surround the fallen Rainlord. It was going to happen again. And he had to watch.

A jostling of debris interrupted them, and a green light filled the room. Hector saw a horizontal pillar of smoke shoot toward Ivan. The Salesman saw it, too, but not in time to prevent himself from being enveloped in it. After a second, a blue wave knocked the smoke away, and Hector witnessed the results.

Xuan Sebolt was there, missing most of his body. Some had been sacrificed for smoke, still smoldering even now, but the majority had been given to acid, in which the Salesman had been entirely coated.

Hector remembered seeing it before. The Seadevil's acid had eaten through Horatio Blackburn in a matter of seconds, even despite the enhanced regeneration of pan-forma.

But this was the Salesman of Death. And Hector could hear a low laugh behind the loud hiss of the acid.

Ivan's yellow suit was tarnished, missing chunks here and there. His hat sizzled, mostly eaten through. And some of the flesh on his face was gone, revealing more of his teeth and parts of his bare skull.

And that was it.

"Ouch," Ivan said, sounding more amused than pained.

A blue field converged on Xuan, and the few remains of his body disintegrated in a flash. After a moment, the Seadevil's reaper floated out of the rubble, too, though not by his own volition. Duvoss was still unconscious, instead being carried in another blue cage.

"S-stop," Hector tried.

"What a lunatic," said Ivan. "I bet that guy would've become a real problem, one day."

And he crushed Duvoss as well.

Hector was losing hope. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe the Salesman was the one deceiving him. The bastard could probably tell how weak Hector was all along and was just using this opportunity to fuck with him. With each passing second, Hector grew more convinced. It was over. It had been over this whole time, and he'd just been too stupid to realize it. How could he have even hoped to win anything against one of the most powerful people in the world?

But in spite of all those thoughts, he didn't flinch. He couldn't let himself. He kept eye contact with the Salesman.

The man wasn't regenerating, Hector realized. His half-melted face stayed that way, even as the sizzling subsided. And then Hector realized something else. The man wasn't using a hyper state. This whole time, he'd only been hearing Ivan speak with one voice. It was such an obvious thing that he'd missed it, somehow. Where was this guy's reaper?

Regardless, Ivan didn't seem to be in much pain. Or any, for that matter. He set his briefcase down and popped it open. He pulled out a small mirror and a handkerchief. He looked at himself and dabbed the wounds, but the acid hadn't left much blood flowing.

"What do you think?" Ivan asked. "Charming, in its own way, no?"

Hector didn't respond.

"Not very presentable, though. If I wasn't meeting clients all the time, I think I'd just stay this way."

Hector didn't understand. Was this a trick? Or just more psychotic rambling? It didn't seem right to engage him, either way.

"Well, if you're not going to do anything, then I've got an idea. Stay right there." He dropped his mirror and handkerchief back in his briefcase, then pulled something else out. A phone, it looked like. He pointed it at Hector. "Smile for me."

Hector did not.

"C'mon, no one likes a sourpuss."

Hector just waited.

Ivan took the picture and then tinkered with his phone for a bit. "Let's see. You told the Monster your name was Hector Goffe, right?"

"...What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Be with you in a minute."

Hector tried to think. What would Ivan want his picture for? Ah. No. That could be bad if Ivan found out--

"The Darksteel Soldier," the Salesman said.

Hector had to keep himself from wincing.

"And--oh? Lord Darksteel? Of Warrenhold. Well, well. You didn't mention you were nobility."

"...It's a recent development."

"Ah, indeed. A self-made man, I see."

Hector wasn't sure that was true, but he didn't see much point in contesting it. In fact, maybe he could use this.

Ivan wasn't done reading from his phone, though. "You fought some of my men. And only a couple of them reported back."

Reported back? Hector had thought Ivan was just consulting the internet. Was that not the case?

"Mm, perhaps I'll have a talk with this Desmond Grantier fellow."

So Desmond survived. That was news to Hector. This was really weird, though. Somehow, he'd managed to pump a morsel of information out of the Salesman. Dare he try for more? No, he didn't give a shit about them. He had to stay focused. He had to get ahead of it. "I'd like to take credit for that," he said, "but, uh... I wasn't the one who wiped out your men."

"No?"

There was no sense in lying about that part, Hector figured--not when Ivan apparently had firsthand reports from other people who were there. "That was the Vanguard's doing. Not mine."

"Ah. I see."

And Hector sensed a plan forming. In the back of his mind. Maybe. There was something. A lifeline to latch onto. Possibly. It wasn't all there yet. "Actually, that whole thing... um. It was a very complicated... misunderstanding."

"Oh? How so?"

Hector could see it on the Salesman's face. He'd piqued the man's interest. This was good. Now he just had to... do... what, exactly?

"I'll tell you," said Hector. And, as he didn't actually know how to finish that thought, he instead followed up with, "...But only if we take this conversation somewhere else."

"Ugh!" Ivan groaned. It had enough force behind it to make the room tremble again. "You're still going on about that?" The Salesman sighed and looked around the room another time. He tossed his phone back into his briefcase. "You really will just let them all die unless I do as you ask, won't you? That is pretty heartless, you know. I think that's heartless, and I'm me."

Hector just maintained his composure.

"Agh, fine. Such a hassle. Where do you want to go, then?"

Hector required a silent moment. He'd actually agreed?! This was actually working?! No, shut up. Focus. Poker face. The Salesman could still be fucking with him, even now. "...Just take us a few kilometers past the city limits."

"Excuse me? 'Take us'? You expect me to carry you?"

"I told you. If I use my power, then it would kill everyone that I--"

"Yeah, yeah, alright. C'mere, then."

Blue enveloped him, and he shot through the ceiling with such force that he thought his body might tear apart. But it held. And he could see the Salesman following closely behind as they soared through the clear mid-morning sky together.

The sandy horizon stretched endlessly around the forested oasis of Moaban. But those golden yellow dunes were fast approaching. Soon, this small reprieve would be gone, so Hector decided to make use of it while he could.

'Can't talk long,' he thought. 'I'm with the Salesman, still. What can you tell me about him?'

'What are you--Hector, I don't--'

'Quick, Garovel. Life and death situation here.'

'Ah--okay. Um. The Salesman is best known for war profiteering. Supposedly, he has a gigantic network of spies all over the world and heads up most, if not all, of Abolish's intelligence-gathering operations.'

That was about what Hector had been expecting. 'What about his power?'

'Wha--uh--I don't know.'

'What can you tell me about the weak interaction?'

'Er--is that--? Agh, I can't explain that quickly! I don't even understand it that well to begin with! And I'm not sure anyone does!'

Not very helpful, but oh well. 'Okay.'

'Hector, why hasn't he killed you by now?!'

'He may be under the impression that I'm three hundred years old.'

'What?!'

'I have a plan. It's stupid as shit, though. You should keep running.'

'Hector!'

He could feel his blue cage slowing down. 'Gotta go.' He tuned the reaper out again as his feet neared the sand. They stopped just short of touching it, however. And the blue cage around him did not dissipate, either. Hector gave the Salesman a look.

"What?" said Ivan, easing himself down on the apex of the nearest dune. "I've done as you requested. You shouldn't need me to free you now, right?"

There was no good answer to that question, Hector felt. Better to just sidestep it. "Yes, well... before we get to any of that... I have a small confession."

"Is it that you were lying about how powerful you are? Because I suspected as much."

He could've come clean here, but that didn't seem like the right move. He didn't intend to give ground until he absolutely had to. Instead, he said, "No. I was lying, but not about that."

The Salesman snorted. "Do explain, then."

"I didn't ask you... to come all the way out here... in order to spare bystanders from our fight. At least, not just that. Really, I asked you to do it... because I didn't want anyone to overhear our conversation."

"Is that so?"

Hector took a silent breath and braced himself. This was it. This was where the stupid-as-shit part came into play. "...They don't call you the Salesman for no reason, right? So I was wondering... do you like to make deals?"

The yellow man paused at that. He gave Hector a wide, empty-eyed stare, as if he'd become a porcelain doll all of a sudden. Then he smiled faintly. "You certainly aren't a Rainlord. Ha."

Hector didn't know what to make of that.

Ivan blinked a couple times, still smiling the whole time. "To be frank, I'm about eighty percent certain that what you're telling me is complete nonsense, but I must admit: I am curious as to where you think you're going with any of this. Are you trying to stall? For whom, exactly? There is no one in this entire country who could possibly show up to save you from me right now. Trust me, I keep track of these things."

"...I'm not lying," Hector said again. "Why would I need anyone to save me from you? The only way for me to be capable of lying to you... is if I'm powerful enough to resist you. So from your perspective, I'm either lying but not in need of saving... or simply telling the truth."

"Mm, yes. But you see, I've heard stories. About certain people. Certain irregulars. And these folks, for whatever reason, seem to be entirely immune to the psychological effects of oppressive soul power. It's quite strange."

That was the first Hector had heard of that. He couldn't let it shake him, though. "...Have you ever met anyone like that?"

"Well, no. It does seem like a bit of a tall tale. And yet, as I stand here, speaking to you, I am made to wonder."

"Look," said Hector, "the truth is... that whole mess that I got into with your men in my home country... like I said, it was a misunderstanding. I was trying to work with them. Not against them."

"Oh," laughed Ivan, "is that so?"

"I was never trying to kill them. Otherwise, I... would've done so as soon as they arrived. But they wouldn't listen. And... I'm sure they... misreported my... capabilities in battle, as a result of that."

"Uh-huh."

Hector grit his teeth. "...Don't tell me you actually believe that Atreya could have survived all this time on its own. Without someone protecting it?" That was a pretty good point, actually. He surprised himself but didn't have time to dwell on it. More bullshit was already on its way out of his mouth. "Your men... they weren't the first to try something like that, you know. They were just... the loudest. They never understood that I was... letting them stay in my country. For months, I left them alone. But still... they just wouldn't understand. And then, of course... the Vanguard interfered."

"Mm."

Hector couldn't tell if he was buying any of this. The man's smile was unreadable. So he just kept pushing. "I never killed any of your men," he said. "I wanted to work together. In fact, uh--that's why I came to Sair. I was... I heard that Abolish was operating in this area, so... I came to find out more."

The Salesman returned that hollow-eyed look of his. "Unlike certain others, I'm not that difficult to get in touch with. Why would you come to Sair and not Calthos or Kavia?"

"...My information network isn't as good as yours, obviously. I didn't know I'd run into you so soon. I just started looking a few days ago. As a matter of fact, um... ah..."

Hector faltered. The thought was there in his head, ready to be finished, but his stupid mouth wouldn't do what he wanted. And he could just tell that his tongue would trip over the next word a dozen times over if he pushed on too hard right now. He had to relax. And he had to concentrate. Wait, were those opposites? Shit.

Ivan was waiting. "...Yes? As a matter of fact, what? You sure like to take your sweet time with explanations, don't you?"

"Ah. Y-es. Well... that may've contributed to, uh... to the misunderstanding I had with your men." Hector refocused. Half of this crap was coming out of thin air. But it felt like it was making sense. Hopefully. No time to worry about it, though. "But, ah... I was trying to say that, your information network... is exactly the reason why I wanted to work together. With you, I mean. Mine's not so good, like I said. Or, uh, rather, it's more... nonexistent."

Ivan seemed amused again. "Well, you certainly wouldn't be the first person to want that from me. But you've failed to explain what it is that you are offering. Even if you really are three hundred years old, I can't say you've intrigued me with your battle prowess thus far."

"I'm not offering my strength," said Hector. "I'm offering... all of Sair."

The Salesman laughed outright. "Oh, you are, are you?! Well, then! I can't wait to hear your explanation this time!"

"Obviously," Hector said slowly, "I was going to offer you something else... but seeing as you're here now, you clearly want Sair. And I am... in a position to deliver it to you."

"And how's that, exactly? You're the new leader of the Sandlords, are you?"

"Of course not... Don't be ridiculous. But if you know who I am... then you know that I am close with the Atreyan royal family... which is close with the Sandlords."

"Ha. One political marriage does not make them close."

"Fine. Not close, then. But connected. And... I can use that connection to your advantage."

And Hector gave him the opportunity, but Ivan didn't say anything. He merely waited with that too-still expression on his face.

"I have a free pass into the Golden Fort," Hector went on. "In fact... I was there a few days ago."

"So you want to be my inside man, do you? Why would I need that? I don't know if you've noticed, but I have invisible soldiers at my disposal."

"Invisible soldiers who aren't very reliable," said Hector. "But hell... maybe I'm wrong. Did this attack on Dunehall go the way you wanted it to?"

The Salesman's smile soured somewhat. "And you. You are reliable?"

Hector felt he'd already given enough ground. Possibly too much. He had to pull it back here. "Maybe," he said. "Depends on what you offer me."

"Ha. You grow more brazen by the second. What is it you want, then? I assume you want me to spare your Rainlord friends, no?"

"Of course. But also... well, you might not like my second request."

"How nice of you to warn me."

"...I want you to leave Sair and pretend that I... repelled you." He'd nearly said 'defeated you' before thinking better of it.

Ivan's brow raised and he laughed. "What?"

"It would give me... even more clout with the Sandlords," Hector said, "and by extension... make it easier to hold up my end of the deal."

"Ha! And be quite the boon to your reputation!"

"...Well, yeah. Wouldn't be a very good deal for me, otherwise. You're getting an entire country."

The Salesman relinquished a nod. "That is a fair point and well-made, sir. Thing is, though: I have absolutely no reason to accept such a deal."

"You have every reason," Hector countered. This guy hadn't been listening to him this whole time just for shits and giggles. And even if he was, Hector couldn't let himself believe that right now. He had to press forward. No matter what. "If your invisible soldiers could... infiltrate the Golden Fort just like that... then you would've had them do it a long time ago. You would've killed all the Sandlords in their sleep. But you didn't do that. You waited."

"I like to play with my food," said Ivan. "Clearly. I'm doing so at this very moment. I know it's a bad habit, but what's life without a few bad habits, hmm?"

No, that was bullshit. The Salesman was smarter than that. He had to be. Hector remembered those news reports that Lynn told him about over the phone. They fit into this. "You've... you've been harassing the Sandlords. Trying to pull them out of the Golden Fort. Spread their forces thin. Why would you do that? Why wouldn't you just send a cloaked team in and kill them all while they're sleeping?"

"Like I said--"

"Please." The word ended up sounding even more sarcastic than he'd intended, but oh well. It would have to do. "It's because... it's because the Golden Fort is so crowded right now, isn't it? These invisible men of yours... they can't just push their way through a crowd. They need space to work. And I bet they can still trip physical alarms, too, huh? Like from... a broken window, maybe?"

"...Ha," was all the Salesman said.

"An inside man would be a big help to you," said Hector. "You'd be able to avoid a difficult fight."

"Perhaps. But who doesn't love a good fight?"

"You don't. Not when it means... that you'll have to fight the Vanguard soon afterward."

Ivan didn't have anything to say to that.

Finally, Hector could sense an advantage. It felt like he'd just about puzzled it all out. "Isn't that what you're really worried about? I mean... sure, you could take the Golden Fort. It would be messy, but you could take it. Problem is... what happens when the Vanguard comes to take it back? Because you know they will."

Ivan was no longer smiling.

Hector wasn't done, though. "And... if you let the Sandlords weaken your forces too much, then... you definitely won't be able to hold onto the Golden Fort. Much less, the rest of Sair." Agh, shit. 'Definitely' was probably too strong of a word there.

For a long moment, however, Ivan just stared at him, the dead-eyed look on his face even more unsettling than usual.

Hector couldn't think of any more ammunition, though, so he just waited.

"Supposing I accept," said Ivan, "how would you use your inside influence to assist me?"

Oh fuck. Hector hadn't expected to get this far. He had to keep the shock from reaching his face. "...Ah. Well. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Pretend it isn't." The Salesman didn't sound very jovial anymore. In fact, he sounded a little annoyed.

Thankfully, Hector did have an idea to fall back on. "I will... uh, I will use my free pass to kidnap a few important Sandlords. Key children."

Ivan just looked at him.

At first, the idea had felt like it just sprang out of nowhere. But now Hector knew. That tactic was exactly what the Vanguard had done to the Rainlords. His time spent at Marshrock had taught him more than he'd realized, it seemed.

Hector still couldn't tell what this bastard was thinking. Ivan was giving him plenty of opportunity to keep blabbering on in elaboration, but Hector decided against it. He didn't mind playing the waiting game. If anything, he preferred it.

"...You think you can just waltz out of the Golden Fort with a bunch of Sandlord children?" the Salesman finally said.

That was a damn good point. Hector needed to stall. So he just calmly said, "Yes." And nothing else.

The Salesman's expression flickered with irritation. "How?"

"I'll... make a game of it. They... won't even know that they are being kidnapped."

"Details."

"...You don't need the details."

That hollow look came over the Salesman's face again. And then he put his smile back on. "You're right," he said. "Here, let me give you my phone number."

Hector felt his left arm lift by itself. A slew of blue lasers appeared and tore through his arm, blowing it to bloody pieces.

The Salesman burst out laughing. "Wow! I figured you were weaker than you let on, but holy cow! You're really that weak?! You really are less than a year old!"

What? That was it? The jig was up? It happened so quickly that Hector could scarcely process it. Ivan had known all along? Everything he'd just said had been for nothing? His annihilated arm didn't hurt, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was one of the worst things he'd ever felt.

But he'd be damned if he allowed his composure to slacken even a little bit. Even if it was completely hopeless now, even if everything he'd been working for was crumbling in front of him, he absolutely was not going to give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing it break him. Fuck that.

"That's alright. I'll be gentler with your other arm."

Hector felt his right arm lift, and this time, the lasers that appeared were not blue, but red. They burned a long series of numbers into his bare flesh and then dissipated.

"I hope you like your new tattoo," said Ivan. "It's going to be there a while."

Hector didn't know what he meant. His left arm wasn't growing back, it seemed, but he thought his regeneration had simply worn off. This was not the case, he soon realized.

Ivan gave a short flourish with one hand, and then the meat and bone began to culminate and reform itself around Hector's shoulder, regrowing again. "I suppose you'll be needing that back."

Hector was reluctant to say anything. Impulsively, he wanted to ask Ivan what he was doing, ask why he hadn't killed him yet, but Hector held his tongue. He wasn't sure how much, if any, of this ruse might still be salvageable.

"Ah, that look on your face. Ha. You really don't care whether you live or die, do you? I was right. You are one of those irregulars. Interesting."

Everything had gone wrong so quickly, but Hector's brain seemed like it had forgotten how to panic properly. Perhaps it was just too sudden, and he hadn't processed everything yet, but whatever the reason, he was still trying to figure a way out of this, still calmly searching for solutions.

Sadly, none were coming to mind.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't bother to test your defenses?" Ivan asked. "I'll admit: I was hesitant to, in case it provoked a fight before our lovely conversation concluded, but I was always going to get around to it sooner or later."

He just clenched his jaw in silence.

"Oh? Are you genuinely at a loss for words this time? Or are you going to explain this away, too?"

Hector had nothing.

"Ha. Well. Credit where credit is due. I do appreciate a capable liar. And you were right. On several points. And by now, you've probably realized that I don't intend to kill you. So I'll tell you what: you can have your deal."

Hector's eyes narrowed.

"I will leave," said Ivan, "just as you asked. And I will spare all of your friends--well, the ones that I haven't already killed, anyway. But in exchange for this generosity, you will do exactly as you promised, as well."

Shit. He could see where this was going.

"You will lead the Sandlords out of the Golden Fort. You can do it however you like. Murder. Kidnapping. Stink bomb. Duck, duck, goose. I really don't care, as long as you keep them occupied somewhere else for at least two days."

He didn't bother asking what would happen if he failed or refused, figuring Ivan was going to tell him regardless.

"Tell me something," the Salesman said, straightening his acid-eaten tie. "What do you think is the worst way to die?"

"...I don't really think there is one," said Hector.

"Oh, there is. Trust me. I'm a veritable connoisseur of these things. But it's not surprising that you don't know. So many people overlook it. Probably because it's so common. Everyone thinks, oh, fire is the worst. Or being eviscerated. Or listening to smooth jazz. And sure, those are all equally horrible things. But none are truly the worst."

Hector just waited.

"The worst way to die is simply starvation. Do you know why?"

Hector shook his head.

Ivan motioned with his right hand, as if to help him explain. "It's the hope. Starving to death is slow. It takes you a long time to accept that it is even happening. You hold onto hope for quite a while, which only serves to enhance your suffering, really. And you're never certain when your final moment is going to arrive. Each time you begin to fall asleep, you wonder if you'll wake up again, and even when you do, it's not relief you feel, but dread. Until, eventually, that same hope turns on you, and you begin hoping that you won't wake up again. Because you exist in constant agony. You only know suffering. And at that point, you even lack the physical strength required to end your own life. You're simply waiting for it to be over. Let me tell you, that is true horror."

Hector didn't think he could argue with any of that. But he did feel gutsy enough to ask the question on his mind. "...Is that how you died? Originally, I mean."

"Yes, that was indeed the voice of experience you were hearing just now." His voice had grown softer. "Though I'm surprised you noticed. Everyone seems to think that we of Abolish are simply callous, unfeeling monsters, that we don't understand suffering and loss and sadness and remorse. But they could not be more wrong. We understand all of these things even better than they do." Ivan paused for a beat. "Well, most of us, anyway."

Hector couldn't resist the obvious point of contradiction. "If that's true... then why do you hurt so many people?"

Ivan gave him that empty-eyed stare again. "That is a very innocent-minded question from such a shameless liar."

"I'd... just like to understand why you do what you do. I always thought it was just... for fun."

"Ha. Fun is the effect, not the cause."

"Then... please explain. I'm listening."

Ivan let his gaze linger on him another time. "Mm... nah. It'd be best if you figured it out for yourself. Take a good, long look at the world and try to see things for how they really are. Then, maybe you'll understand. And if not, well, perhaps I'll explain it to you the next time we meet."

Hector didn't like that last notion very much. He wanted to say something to contest it, but the words weren't coming now.

"I'll give you one year," said Ivan.

And Hector blinked. In spite of himself, he said, "Why a whole year?"

"Because I like the cut of your jib."

Hector raised a dubious eyebrow. "...Now who's lying?"

"Alright, fine," said Ivan. "The real reasons are boring political ones. And you don't want to listen to me explain all that, do you?" The man allowed another beat to pass. "Also, I'd have to kill you after I told you. So there's that, too."

Hector had to force himself not to react to that. Maybe it didn't really matter at this point, but he didn't want Ivan to see any sense of relief on his face.

After another moment of repose, the Salesman picked the conversation back up. "I suppose I don't need to mention this, but, well. I want to. Naturally, if you fail to deliver your end of this bargain, I will hunt down everyone you care about in this world and kill them. Slowly, of course. By starving them to death. That's why I brought that up earlier, see? That wasn't just a random tangent. It was foreshadowing. I was using foreshadowing."

"Yeah, I got it."

"Of course you did. You're a smart kid. That's why I'm sure you won't let me down. That's why I'm sure I won't have to go to all the trouble of finding all your friends and family and then gradually depriving them of food until they begin begging for death. I was never threatening you, you understand? Although, I could do that, too, if you like. In addition to your loved ones, I mean. Not instead of."

"...Do you always ramble this much when threatening people?"

"Usually, yes. What can I say? It gets me excited, and I just can't stop talking. But I suppose I should. We've been at this a while, you and I, and I have a lot of important business to take care of."

"I'm sure you do."

"I look forward to hearing from you," said Ivan. "You have my number. Oh, and if you don't call me at least once a week, I may decide to renegotiate the terms of our deal."

Hector's expression stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just make sure you keep me apprised of your progress. A weekly update is all I ask. That's not so unreasonable, is it?"

Hector turned his head slightly, reevaluating Ivan from the corner of his eyes. "Are you... I mean... do you not have many people to talk to?"

"What?! No! I have tons of people!"

A suddenly awkward silence intervened.

"It's just--" Ivan tried. "They're all--they're very same-y, you know what I mean? And this was an unexpectedly pleasant conversation, so I--look, shut up. Don't make this weird. I'm cutting you a lot of slack here. The least you could do is call me once in a while."

"...O-okay."

After that, the Salesman just stood there, looking like he wasn't entirely sure what to do next. "Alright, well. Good, then. I'll talk to you later."

"W-wait, uh."

"What?"

"Uh. You didn't clarify. Are you going to pretend that I forced you to retreat from here? I mean, ah... I only ask because i-it would help me help you."

Ivan seemed to regain his composure all at once. "Mm. Right. Yes. I suppose I could oblige. Doesn't matter to me how much--" He cut himself off.

Hector waited, but Ivan just stared blankly past him. Then Hector saw that mad smile again.

"Ha. Well, well. Who is that?"

Hector didn't know what he meant. But he did hear a noise. A distant hum in the direction of Dunehall. An airplane? Probably not, his gut told him.

"Is that really the Sunsmith?" Ivan asked, not to Hector, seemingly, but simply aloud. "To come to me alone like this--does he fancy himself a warrior now? Have his days of cowering beneath the corpses of better men come to an end?" He threw Hector a knowing glance. "If so, I'm disappointed. Bravery doesn't suit him."