"Did the book just talk? Moreover, it sounds like it insulted me. Twice!" Gilgamel pointed an accusing finger at the floating tome, eyes wide: "Senior Dean, this book is cursed!"
The Grimoire snapped, its big mouth jumped furiously, "You're cursed! Your entire family's cursed! How dare you, smelly donkey, accuse me!?"
"See? It's cursing! It's definitely cursed!" Gilgamel shouted back, refusing to back down.
With an audible snap, the Grimoire lunged and bit his finger.
"Ouch!" Gilgamel yelped, jumping back and shaking his hand frantically, "It bit me! Senior Dean, it bit me!"
Dean exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple with a weary sigh, "Grimoires are intelligent entities, each with their own personality. They are usually shaped by the ancient magic sealed within them. Some are kind, some are quiet, some are arrogant… and some are downright insufferable. But they all share one trait—they're proud."
