Suspicion
...on his part, Motley wouldn’t have cared so much about what exactly happened to the souls of the participants during the wish-making process, if his own hadn’t been at risk. But as Runch said, it
was surprisingly suspicious that the so-called professors hadn’t so much as attempted to test the device yet; the phrase “do not attribute to malice what could be attributed to stupidity” was sometimes relevant, but when the targets were supposedly adherents to proper research, and intelligence in general at that, there was clearly something wrong with the situation.
Which then had him questioning whatever scenario might present itself in the latter portion of the day. Would it be similar to the events of The Hunger Games, wherein participants were forcibly herded toward their foes lest they risk death at the hands of the individuals running the game? Or perhaps everybody would be marked in some way, drawing each foe closer together by dint of their own curiosity, and the insistence that not defeating one’s opponent would mean a loss by default.
Not that Runch seemed upset about the idea, as he wandered off into the catacombs again. Nor, for that matter, did Erina, grinning as she grabbed up one of Runch’s discarded weapons as a lightsource of her own, and only prevented from wandering after the errant pirate by Motley’s hand on her shoulder.
'...aren’t we going to follow him?' Erina asked with a frown, rather puzzled, perhaps even annoyed by Motley’s hand on her shoulder.
'We DID both agree to stick with him.''And as I already explained to him, we cannot simply wander off into that underground maze. Not without a strategy, at least,' Motley pointed out once again, beginning to mark off points on his fingers.
'If we’re going to get his spoonsaber back, we need to consider a means of marking our route; we ideally need a brighter source of light than these spoons; we need sustenance for you in particular, since Runch is as good as lost if he keeps going-''Found it!''...or that could happen, and we need never enter those tombs again,' Motley murmured with slight disbelief as he watched Runch return, mostly to fill his mouth with words so that he didn’t accidentally mutter “That’s impossible,” or anything like it. Past experience had shown that practically nothing was impossible under the right circumstances, and that ever thinking otherwise would lead to injury or worse, but the situation was nonetheless exceptionally improbable.
'Are you religious, by any chance? Is there a god giving you a ton of luck?' Erina asked once Runch had finished his latest speech, by far more genuinely shocked than Motley if her expression was anything to go by.
'Because I really want to worship that god if they exist.''And what was that about the wishing machine?' Motley echoed, more practically-minded than Erina in this case.
'Because I think that’s rather significant as far as finds go. Maybe not specifically useful, so far, but certainly a late-game advantage if you can figure out how to exercise it.' To himself alone, he admitted that, of course, it may also be completely worthless, depending on whether the folks running the game were the sort of be honest or not. That remained to be seen… and if they weren’t, they’d need to be harshly reprimanded.
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