Dissolution (after battle)
<Hey, Ishmael.>
...Yes.
<Can we talk, at least for a bit?>
I called over to Ishmael once the battle was over.
Right, I've never done anything like this before... I don't even know if this is the right thing to do, or what kind of results this conversation is going to yield, but...
I can't just sit here and watch.
Yeah. Whatever.
<It looks to me that you've been preoccupied with something ever since we got here...>
<You know, you're not really participating in group activities and things like that.>
Isn't it obvious? There's something more important at hand, but they're all busy enjoying themselves, playing this stupid game.
<Something more important... is this about the Great Lake?>
Yes.
<That we, in our current state, shouldn't go there?>
No.
<Right... So, why do you think that we don't have a chance against whatever is there?>
I told you. We're not ready.
We're going to need at least half a year to acclimate to the Great Lake and the things that are there.
Or, we could try to gain more experience, enough to overwhelm our disadvantages. And that goes the same for you, Dante. You need to be strong enough to at least take care of yourself.
Which I can help with. And Outis... I'm sure she can help with your training, too.
...If push comes to shove, yes.
<W-wait. Wait.>
<Half a year, Ishmael...? We just don't have that much time to spare.>
Really? Is that why we were playing beach volleyball? Because we don't have the time to spare?
And... it's not like I'm saying that we should just sit on our butts and do nothing for half a year. I'm saying that we should visit other destinations first before coming back here.
That is impossible. Not every location of Golden Boughs in the Nests has been identified, and the Before Team hasn't completed their preliminary surveys yet.
Excuses.
I've known for a while that you've had some fancy ulterior motive.
...And whatever that is, this is a mistake you won't ever forget.
...Perhaps.
<......>
Gah, what a mess.
In that case, we should at least map a detailed sailing route and plan out a combat strategy...
Prattling on and on and on...
Just when I thought our discussion was reaching a stalemate, Heathcliff butted in.
What's your problem?
Shut your gob. Think you're the only one struggling here? We've all died more times than we can count. Every single one of us!
So I'm telling you that it'll work out again, somehow!
And I'm telling you that the Great Lake is different. What if the manager drowns? What if that thing eats us and our bodies can't be recovered?
Do you understand? This isn't anything like we've been through so far! This could be the end of us!
Then I... won't have the chance to kill that bastard...
...Okay. Let's say that you're right. If we go now, we're all going to bite it and I won't be able to get Cath... I mean, get back up.
So what's wrong with faffin' about for a little while? What, are those whales working out or something?
You've been mucking up the mood ever since we got here, so how about you use some bloody common sense to not bring everyone else down with you!
That's rich coming from you, Heathcliff.
What 'common sense' do you have of the Great Lake? Have you even seen a whale? Since when were you such a know-it-all?
What do you even know about a sailor's life? Hah, how would you? All day you're whining about your girlfriend or something, dozing off in the bus, or throwing a hissy fit once in a while!
...Quit it.
It's kill or be killed, by everything from the depths of the waters to the heights of the skies crawling and falling onto the deck...
Innumerable natural disasters like acid typhoons, tuna tsunamis, cerebra storms, and a multitude of other terrors of the lake I can't even recall the names of!
And from the storms, high-waves as tall as mountains! Following that, those fucking monsters that wash up on the deck!
Look away for a moment and your mate, whom you've trusted with your life, is slain! Everyone and every goddamn thing goes mad and is transformed into something else entirely on that abominable lake!
It's something that a pathetic lovey-dovey tenderfoot like you...
...Won't ever understand, not after dying a hundred deaths.
I told you to quit it!
Before anyone could even step in, Heathcliff swung wildly at Ishmael.
Ach...
You don't know shite about me, a prick like you!
F-fellows...
The tussle was such a blitz that no one could even attempt to intervene; Yi Sang almost looked pitiful as he stood there bewildered.
For a moment, it appeared as though Heathcliff had the upper hand as his fist struck Ishmael right in her jaw...
Aaaarrrgggh!
Woah?!
Just as Ishmael appeared to throw a punch, she kicked Heathcliff's leg, throwing him to the ground.
<I-Ishmael, wait!>
In the blink of an eye, Ishmael took up her mace.
She raises it high, as though she could strike it down at any moment. Her arm trembles with uncontrollable fury.
...Yeah, what'll you do? Bash my head in? Like I did you before?
Fine, kill me. No matter. I'll be right as rain in a minute.
...I was a fool to think you'd be any different from me.
Hah, everyone's the same, after all.
...!
<Ah...>
I wasn't sure what caused her sudden change of heart, but it was a relief of sorts, at least. She looked at Heathcliff with her eyes wide open... and dropped the mace to the ground.
I wished that I would not have to again be witness to such belligerency amongst friends...
Yet, such quarrels among fellows is but an ineluctability, perhaps...
Hyaah~ Now that brings me back, watching them fight! We used to tussle just like they do now.
Big Sis, shush! Shh!!
Haah...
Dante, I neglected to mention this to you since we have not had a dispute like this since our first mission...
But you could be held responsible in the future for management failure, should a similar workplace conflict arise.
<I...>
What the hell was I supposed to do about this?
...Was what I wanted to say, but I managed to hold my metaphorical tongue.
How does the fault lie with the Executive Manager, Faust? It's those two fools who got into this senseless altercation.
Preventing senseless altercations between coworkers is a job of a manager.
You...
S-stop it, everyone...
Indeed, such behavior ill fits the heroic nature of Limbus Company.
Sinclair's hesitance, Don Quixote's attempts to defuse, Faust's impassive voice, and Outis's increasingly rising voice in my defense.
All of that combined was starting to get incredibly irritating...
<Stop...>
<Guys. Enough.>
I had no other recourse left at this moment.
<Ishmael, Heathcliff.>
...What.
......
<The two of you, stop working together for a while. Distance yourselves.>
<At least... at least until I can think of a way to deal with you two.>
It's not like I enjoy looking at her mug.
...Ok.
Thus the mood fell into a pit as depressing as this mudflat...
Okay, okay... We have an approximate quote now, so feel free to go collecting those scraps.
……
We spent the next few days collecting scraps with the rest of the Sinners.