บท 124: kings of misery.

Damian ripped the feather-blade from the Ninth's grasp. 

He struggled free and stood over his future-borne self, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. On the floor, his alter cackled and laughed, clutching a hand to his chest.

"You fucking idiot," he wheezed. "How did you ever think this was gonna work, huh?"

—He was not speaking to Damian.

It was only now that the younger Damian realized the Apostles had begun crowding around the two men. The entire room had darkened significantly, shadows pooling in the edges of the room and threatening to peel off the walls. The white-masked Apostles had summoned daggers, but they showed no sign of attacking Damian—and yet, they did not rush to help the Ninth Seat on the floor, either.

"This is where we're always going to end up, isn't it?"