Tycondrius nodded slowly.
Mount Celestia.
And on a middle layer--
Wait, no...
Mount Celestia only HAD seven layers! He was near the fucking TOP!!!
"Why am I on the Sixth. Fucking. Layer??" Tycon frowned. "Aren't I supposed to start from the bottom? To prove my worth or-- my holiness or... or my devout-itude?"
"Devotion, Tyrael. The word is devotion."
"I am *supposed* to climb this mountain," Tycon insisted.
It would be easier to escape from the bottom layer. With any luck, he'd be able to cast himself down into a random hell. With how common 'fallen angels' were in myths and legends, he surmised it was a feasible goal.
"You already climbed it," Khalkyd answered simply.
Tycon cast a suspicious glare at the floating angel.
...but his suspicions were folly. That thing couldn't lie.
Also, it was too stupid to be deceitful in any fashion.
