human
Prisca:  She looked at the burning assassins, then turned to Prisca with eyes that showed scant emotion and said, “Disposal complete. I’m glad you’re sa— Burp.”
gpt
Prisca:  “Hold on. Did you just burp at me?”
human
Arakiya:  “Excuse me?” She shook her head. “No. I did not— Burp.”
gpt
Prisca:  “Fool. You did—that’s what it’s called.” Prisca lightly smacked the other girl with an open palm.
human
Arakiya:  “Ow.” The girl said flatly. Then she touched her own ears and said, “Lady Prisca. How did I do?”
gpt
Prisca:  “A pointless question, but as I said, I praise you. There’s not a scratch on me. And the way you took care of that lot was a sight to see.”
human
Arakiya:  “It is all thanks to the spirits.” The girl took her hand off her ears, looking somewhat shy. A pale light began to float in her open palm—a spirit. It had no corporeal form of its own, but enough mana could give it a temporary one. This was a lesser spirit, an entity with minimal strength and will. There were some spirits that could communicate with living beings, form contracts with them to offer their powers and assistance. This girl likewise relied on spirits for her abilities. But she did not make contracts with them. “Gulp.” Without hesitation, she tossed the lesser spirit in her hand into her mouth and chewed.
gpt
Prisca:  Prisca began to smile. “A unique sight, no matter how many times I see it: a spirit eater having a meal.”
human
Arakiya:  “Burp.”
gpt
Prisca:  Prisca crossed her arms but shrugged at the burping girl. This girl’s special ability was not making contracts with spirits, but gaining their powers by consuming them. A unique ability to usurp the capacities of others. Obviously, not just anyone could obtain the power of spirits by eating them. It was a sign of very, very unusual qualities, and that was why Prisca valued this girl so highly. “Arakiya, you’ve done well to heed my orders.”
human
Arakiya:  “…Because you spoke them, Lady Prisca.” Having said the name of the girl, Arakiya, Prisca walked over the ashes of the incinerated assassins, approaching the one body that had not been burned. Her double, whose face looked so much like her own—except the way it was currently contorted in a mask of agony. Prisca crouched beside the corpse, closed its eyes, and endeavored to shift the expression to something more peaceful. “Your face was mistaken for mine at least this one time,” she said. “You deserve not to be seen like this.”