## Emil POV Have I ever imagined engaging in close quarters combat with a giant burger patty, radiating Hellfire and contorted from absorbing the resentment of remnant souls? Perhaps there is a real reason that Duke Egelon wanted me for this job. Jonny, Jonny, Jonny. What ought I do with this kid? One moment he would be nowhere to be found, the next he would emerge from the depth of some dungeon with an unholy grail in hand, to serve as the vessel for the most arcane milkshake the little dour town of Marlowe had ever seen. One moment he would knock the blender over, spilling the contents all over me, the next he would put an enlivening touch to the finished drink with occult magic that I could barely wrap my head around. If I had the misfortune of working with someone like this in my past life, I would have left him out to die on the field. But maybe this time, it doesn’t have to be this way…