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Saga of The Night God

................. “7.9 billion people, 3.8 billion of them are women. I saw millions of them in my lifetime, talked with thousands, known hundreds.” Yelled the man, while raising his hand toward the sky. “And...not a single...pussy for me…..god…why.” And burst out in tears. [5 minutes Before ] The person yelling at the god Erwin Tynan is a successful corporate slave because of his well-paid job at a multinational company. He had just had a dinner meeting with his slave colleagues and was waiting for his ride. Standing under the lamppost while enjoying the winter night, he said, "What a beautiful night," and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. And continued with a sigh, “sigh, it will become more beautiful if I have someone as beautiful as this night in my arms. " Saying this, he searched for a lighter in his pocket but couldn't find it. Suddenly, a hooded person approached Erwin while he was searching his pockets and pulled out a lighter from his jacket. Seeing the man approaching him suddenly Erwin was surprised and, seeing the lighter in the person's hand, he saiThanksanks man” And leaned forward to light his cigarette. Lighting his cigarette, he tries to get a glimpse of a person's face. After seeing the face, he was astonished. Because under the hood. It was a beautiful girl. Her skin was white as snow, her hair black as night, and her crystal red eyes and blood-soaked lips were challenging the night's beauty. Her expression was colder than ice and they enhanced her beauty more. But there was something wrong here because Erwin's astonished face was now grim. And had a wound on his stomach that certainly came from the knife in a woman’s hand. “Why?” he said painfully and fell over. ....... Discord link :- https://discord.gg/WNGARAePs2 join for character artworks

J_a_zzy · ファンタジー
レビュー数が足りません
181 Chs

Blood-sucking parasites

Aston hobbled toward the mangled body of the hairless creature, its once sleek form now a canvas of torment. Deep wounds crisscrossed its flesh, creating a macabre tapestry of agony. The most grievous injury adorned the side of its neck—a gaping wound that exposed raw, pulsating tissue beneath. The creature's feeble movements betrayed its fading vitality, each labored gasp a testament to its dwindling breath.

As Aston drew closer, a twisted smile etched itself upon his face, an unsettling amalgamation of triumph and sadistic pleasure. His own body bore the scars of the violent clash, a testament to the brutal dance they had engaged in. Deep gashes marred his skin, serving as crimson reminders of the ferocity of their struggle. Blood, both his own and the creature's, painted his body in a grotesque tableau of violence.