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The Laughing Swordsman

Only when all the living perish, will there be peace ... Apollo was a bratty noble. Using the power of his father, he did many mischievous stunts. However, he would never go too far. The worst he did was steal someone's shoe, while on the average, it would be poking them in the back and running off. That's why he found it so absurd that someone would assassinate him, in his own room no less. He was stabbed in the back and left to die... But then he was back in his room, completely fine. Yet, he was stabbed in the back once again. Once he was stabbed in the back for the third time, the cruel reality began to sink in. That this would repeat itself for an eternity. The only thing in his room was his bed and his bokken, a wooden sword. At some point, Apollo picked up the bokken. He took his first steps to break out of the cycle. And swore to bury the person who called for this assassin with his own hands. ...But also calls a lot of things mommy for some reason.

Disgrace · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
372 Chs

Are You Sure About This?

Apollo scratched the side of his head.

"What do you guys mean by lock up?"

Mark smiled cordially.

"It means you are going into a prison cell and are to be kept there for a certain amount of time."

Apollo pouted.

"That sounds boring."

Mark nodded.

"Indeed, it is. However, there should be a group that will break you out soon enough."

Apollo blinked a few times.

"That sounds cool!"

The corner of Mark's lip turned up.

"It should be, indeed."

He took a deep breath.

"Say, how did you come to this place?"

Apollo scratched his cheek with a finger.

"Um... someone threw me here."

Mark furrowed his brows.

"...Really?"

Apollo nodded.

"Yeah!"

Mark rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger.