"I want to die peacefully in my bed," Clayton stretched out a light smirk. "I'm 64 years old, so I figure I'll die at 74, or 75 if we round it up?"
"Do you think this is a joke?" She barked, "I'm a Draconic Gravity Magus! You can't escape my grasp even if the Gods themselves came down here to help you!"
Clayton did not budge. Well, an extra layer of gravity was pushing him down constantly, inflicted by Rita, but he was otherwise healthy. He even spat out a few fragments of his ribs as he spoke to her.
With that said, he was confident to add, "You're not the first Gravity Magus I saw, so your skills do not impress me. I do not understand how you were given such a title, as knowing the stupid laws of our Kingdom, you should be dead already, but let me make it clear to you once more; You do not impress me, and I do not fear you."
"You asked me how I wanted to die, and I answered." He smirked.
