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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
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372 Chs

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Apollo's body had made significant reparations. His organs were restored, while the layers of bone returned. As for the cracks in his bones, they mended seamlessly, like they were never there in the first place. His skin regrew on top of his body, without losing the toughness it had before.

And the craziest part was that a healthy layer of muscle and fat remained on his body. Despite performing an action that would seemingly use up so much energy, he was still fine.

Essentially as good as new.

At this moment, his iron coin that was still miraculously in his pocket began heating up tremendously, almost like a fire had started.

Apollo sat up with a little bit of difficulty, letting out an exasperated groan. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the iron coin that was shining brightly with the pattern of a smiling devil on one side and the association's symbol on the other.