“The Boy Who Owned Land Of Abysses” «•»By: Alyssa Oca«•»

The weather was damp and cold, unpleasant, and the biting wind dried up fresh. At that moment, the white-haired beautiful boy frantically seized the opportunity to activate it. He frowned and was annoyed at the sudden uneasiness. He is full of angry cold, sharper than any blade, silvery blur toward the enemy, then another diagonal line, almost through the artery. A penetrates deeply into the side of his enemies, dangerously close to the scar, allowing the enemy to catch the horror, like icebreaking from the devil's refrigerator directly into the cold night, chasing the light onto him like a torch. They can't find the heart of hope. The improvisation on the wings creates a true color, and as the dawn begins from the banyan tree, the long raft branches are pushed into the night.

The ghostly light pressed against the swollen sky, with a strange self, curled up on the edge of the tight skin, a nightmare under the fingertips of the moth. The white arm extends to the truth, because the enemy listens to the darkness in the slow ballet of the little root, darkens the enemy's soul in the dark box, full of the loud demon's voice, destroying your thoughts, tightly Grab the bottom of the leaf. Moldy smell in the hundred-step cistern. Silence wears out under the blur of his footsteps. He stretched out his hands

Manipulating the dodge shadow of the mantle.

The phantom clone split, the sudden blue flame of the Cloud Fairy Torch fell and still descended through the aria of the royal blue flowers, and when the world gathered so well in the sky in the darkness of hell, I took notes that cut into the sea. Only the silver glass deflected the radiant imitation and the loss merged and was blown by another snow, the moment

A winter moon stands on a high place, piercing the enemy with a thin cloud in such a strong wind. When he is loaded with a cold promise, the glare of the spark rises the cross shadow of the ocean and the horizon.