Constantine lay in bed after separating from Zamira, each remaining in their respective rooms as the rain assailed the hotel with the lightning strikes threatening to breach through as if seeking their lives.
The Conqueror was not afraid however, he sat on the bed for a moment, thinking about the incidents today.
'What should my next code of action be...?'
[...]
'Aren't you going to say anything?' He asked Zebellia who would usually interrupt his inner monologues.
[...]
'Are you sleeping?'
[...]
'She's sleeping...' He sighed and recalled how she taught him before to show the trial's interface.
All of his cores were loaded by now as they ran with only one producing air, he figured that producing the hair subconsciously in his lungs was quite effective in battle situations.
