"These days... can toilets become sentient too?"
Huai Shi sighed softly, supporting A-Fang with one hand, unmoved.
Meanwhile, on another Steel War Chariot, an aged blanket had been spread out, its patterns long faded with time.
On top, another layer of black velvet cloth held various shotgun parts, swiftly assembled by a pair of calloused hands.
Placed beside Foster.
The Captain sat cross-legged on the blanket, holding a slender brass bullet in one hand, and a small skin-peeling hook knife in the other, aligning the engravings.
"Name?"
Foster suddenly asked, "What's the name of that Crowned one?"
"Name?" The Snake-man Sacrifice beside him was full of confusion.
"Yes, name, tell me what it's called," Foster said, "Codename, nickname, or title, any kind of designation will do."
"Five... Five Eyes!"
From beneath the massive shadow, the Sacrifice strained to search, finally pulling a name from the corners of memory: "It calls itself Five Eyes!"
"Alright, Five Eyes."
