Sometimes, Roless simply zoned out.
After he had lugged the two dead fat Sakars back to the church, tossing them into the growing pile of dead monster bodies, he seemed to dimly recall complaining about how he wished his Blood magic could actually do some sort of healing, before hobbling back out for some…what?
What was he even planning on doing again?
Striding aimlessly around town, the Hunter scratched his head with an oily hand, weapons still clanging and clinking against his body. That bit of excitement really wasn’t worth it, and while Donny was a rather funny lad, he was more interested in seeing the raven-haired axe-wielder get close enough to Marabel that she’d make a funny expression when he died. Did that crazy loli even cry? Or was she eternally pretentious and irritated?
“Welp, whatever,” he said out loud, heading away from town, “Guess I’ll do some tracking.”
After all, with nothing else left to do in town, other than hope that his ribs heal up properly, he might as well figure out where the rest of the fleshbags went. Contrary to expectations, dead bodies didn’t just vanish with no reason, and pretending to be a detective was better than staying around any longer in this lobotomized cesspool.
