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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 · Fantasie
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372 Chs

Blood Stained Walls

Like an unending fountain, massive vines poured out of Otis' chest.

They immediately wrapped around the two hounds next to him, giving them quite the miserable appearance.

If the skeletal hounds could whimper, they would surely be doing so right now.

The vines completely restricted the movement of the hounds, except for the occasional twitch.

Otis' breathing was ragged.

His eyes were unfocused.

Yet, he was standing tall.

His shattered arm hung limply by his side. Thankfully, the bleeding stopped.

Otis looked up towards the two hounds restricted by his vines.

"Die."

Suddenly, the vines constricted, shattering the bones of the hounds. Uncanny cracking sounds resounded throughout the trial room.

Otis let out a lethargic sigh.

He came to a realization.

Power...

Power reigned over everything.

With enough power, you didn't have to worry about weaknesses. If everything could snap under the pressure of your touch, nothing would stand before you.