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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 · Fantasía
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372 Chs

Split

After breaking his mother's arm, Apollo began to twist it. Though the bones had snapped, it was still attached because of the skin and flesh holding it together. To remedy that, Apollo just kept twisting.

The skin on the outside of the arm clearly wasn't used to this kind of treatment, both stretched and wrinkled up.

Apollo's mother was on the verge of death, but still resisted slightly, tensing up her muscles so as to not be twisted up. It wasn't so clear if she even consciously did that or instinctually did so as to not lose an arm.

Unfortunately for her, it was not enough to stop him.

The skin around the arm began reddening, looking even more grotesque than before. Until eventually, Apollo was able to tear the skin apart. Blood burst out, while the muscles underneath were torn up badly.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHH."

"HAHAHA HAHAHAHA."