Feeling the tensions and control that long surrounded the air and the hall, the air thickened and made breathing harder. Razmund felt his knees creaking and his head hurting.
Illak's Domain was stretching around the wall and nearly cracking them apart, letting Razmund know that Illak was no longer testing him. He was straight up approaching him to crash him in his sense of justice and reminder.
Like welcoming new rookies, this Extre wanted problems. Good. Illak had all the reasons to give this Blessed his deserved attention that most likely ca from soone else. This wasn't his idea. Razmud believed this was intentional and pushed forward because of his problems with this place.
But he wanted his prey more than this place.
Step by step, Razmund backed away and by so weird logic, ended up hitting the wall with his back.
Weird, he thought. I thought I was seeing enough powerhouses of this world to get my steps in mind. I guess it is still early for to take Domains for sothing small. Like a Sage. One has to keep these people in mind before becoming like them one day. Just wait...
He wasn't at the end of the hallway, but at the side, near the window that showed nice views of the Helltrim City. It was no longer that elevated, showing the starting Sectors of the Hellscape. It showed most of the Helltrim City below, presenting nurous streets, so figures, and many military barracks below this castle.
Illak wasn't using a small amount of power, but his Domain wasn't expanded far, as he squeezed just part of it to keep this castle intact. Well, he had seen the walls cracking and so pictures falling. He still let his power onwards, impacting the space and gravity of this situation. It was his effective way to dominate reality with his Path, but it was far away from true Authority. It was like describing a boulder and a mountain, though the boulder could still push through a lot of things.
Domains were kind of hard to maintain and manage, let alone get or learn. Having them in any capacity ant holding the power to influence the outside world by mastering the inner workings of oneself. It could be anything. Mana was predominantly close to the Domains, as it was mysterious and magical, allowing the workings of the Domains to work better. How to handle and master it was barely sothing teachable. It was far too influential and complicated, giving the individual unique issues or specific powers.
One could influence the world with Sharpness, cutting things from afar, or letting physical swords reach another level. Flas would beco more alive, wild, or aningfully enthralled over one's flesh or body, causing explosions or heat to envelop wide areas or specific locations. It could be part of the body as well, guiding soone as if it was alive.
Illak was influencing the outside world, or the Domain simply went out the mont he let it out, not pausing it or limiting it, so it acted on its own.
Domains were a rare power that most Extres held, and rarely did soone beneath that rank get or understand them. It wasn't necessarily a part of so Path. It was a simple way that mana or a person grew, giving one a blessing that ant sothing significant. In a sense, it was a lofty idea stemming from the trees of the Divides and mana. It wasn't common below Level 70, though so rare or talented beings could manage to understand so of their weakest forms.
The true powerhouses of this planet would have such powerful Domains, that one would wonder if they were valid. It poised a different understanding than Laws, albeit most of them were interconnected between them and oneself.
They were hard to seek, let alone master. Like the Sword Intent that Razmund harbored without any Boost or outer help, Domains were a power he understood, yet didn't have.
It wasn't under his priorities, but one day, he would get it. Sword Sage Path promised that kind of power, as it held nearly anything under the heavens of swords.
Domains ranged in rank, Grades, and levels, thus there were differences between them since this world still put them through its leveling or reading possibilities. Illak let out a weak huffed version of his full Domain. If he went all out, parts of this castle would blow up and Razmund would beco a mangled ss.
As one of many demonic races in Hell Haven, Illak eyed the Surface Challengers with disdain and hard feelings. It was kind of honest, which was sothing Razmund couldn't refute.
He was the sa, thus it was fine to respect it in so way.
So would love to disagree with that, challenge his Sword Intent which was almost escaping from him touching the handle of his claymore. Ever since he got the gist of it, the handle and pouch were barely managing his effort to keep the unkept feelings sheathed. It wanted out; cut things.
Perhaps he could unleash everything, trying to seek a way out, or just knock onto this domain and shout that he wasn't so weakling. The pressure kept rising, not stopping even when he stopped by the wall.
The pressure of the Domain lingered, obvious by the purplish colors around Illak and the air and walls. It prevented anyone from moving, but most of it was aid onward, focusing on Razmund as Illak demanded without any word or act. Aside, Lint was speechless and frozen.
Razmund wondered about Illak's control and words. Perhaps it was a fraud and he barely managed to find a reason to do it. Well, that was wrong.
Illak was a powerful Extre under the direct rules of his Lady. He needed no excuses in the present world.
“Yet another warning, Blessed,” Illak repeated, lowering his head and looking at near Guide, Lint, with a headache in his consideration. He hoped he wouldn't end up punished for creating a ruckus in this place because of this. Such people like him weren't ant to touch weaklings. It was against the rules that Will of the Battleworld dictated, and even Hells were—mostly—following it out of nothing but respect for its rules and Boosts. So individuals didn't care for sothing like balance in Levels and lives, thus acting like the Old World that long departed. Now, it was nothing but a fact.
So Gods or people still judged it would be better to act as if nothing happened, for the Gods and their benefits close to them.
Razmund cocked his head down, eying his handle.
“Don't stir trouble, or you will die a dog's End,” Illak declared.
“S-shut up,” Razmund forced those words out, filling his body with unwillingness and itch. His hand itched to draw his claymore, creasing the handle in a cold sweat. He knew better than to swallow such reminders or a test, yet Illak wasn't holding back his words. This was the difference between them. A weakling and powerhouse.
Perhaps it should have been different.
“You fear drawing your blade, do you? Does killing you stop sothing big or important? Perhaps the world will cherish it, but could it fix anything right now? The world isn't operating right. Would I gain anything from touching you? Could I even touch you? Could it all end? Encounter, I an,” Illak wondered, pausing and briefly causing his Domain to waver because of his emotions.
“You would feel good about it no matter what, wouldn't you?” Razmund asked. “Many would be happy. Others not. Gods, I imply. They are behind every Encounter and this is no different. You better not touch ... Levandis should know better than that.”
Illak laughed, putting his hand to his mouth as his back bent down. It wasn't a mocking laughter, but one filled with delight.
“A lofty one, hm? You are better than the average third-tir, but your starting tis were kind of young, thus your status is kind of unfit for the average ones. You see, most third-tirs are all those who eye the Laws and hope to touch the Extres. They want a challenge. Push. You don't, so what does it make you?” Illak stopped laughing and pointed his hand onward. Instead of retracting his Domain forth, allowing Razmund to take a breath, the Domain expanded, pushing the walls in cracks and limits.
Razmund felt the wall pushing against him, or he was doing that instead, so he seized his heart and took a step onwards.
“You wanna try that much? Crash sothing you better not touch,”
“Nothing but to seek your chance. That is all.”
“Does Mindarch want it?”
“Military does.”
“Lurrs?”
“Those... too,” Illak said hesitantly, figuring that his honesty was far too of a problem. He didn't like to lie. That was a problem that stemd from his lifeti in the military and gas with Levandis.
Razmund figured if soone wanted to his limit, where else to get that than by force?
He knew why it happened. His readings should be less than vague, or straight-up confidential, or... Mindarch had trouble getting proper readings out of him. How? His battles in Islands of Greatness were challenging and honest, yet he hadn't shown anything wrong. He fought and did his best, giving Mindarch the most reasonable pictures and ideas about his strength.
But the Voice was the justification.
Mindarch wasn't.
Perhaps nobody knew the exact aningful numbers and letters of his powers besides himself. Well, Mindarch should guess sothing, while Razmund knew that without Boosts, he should forget about a lot of things.
At the start, his fight with Thar wasn't even a real fight, and he had grown significantly since then. Now, he had no qualms about Thar's fingers. He would challenge his whole hand.
Without waiting or pretending to be weak any longer, Razmund took a large breath, drawing his claymore in a heartbeat. Seizing control over the Domain without having one was kind of complicated, as it was close to going against a large mountain. But this one followed the mana and power of so physical Path that Illak owned. If he was limiting it, it was possible to look for its shortcomings.
Razmund had all good points to clash against this partially expanded Domain. First, he started with the simple slash, followed by a flock of mana that changed as he arranged forth his Sword Intent.
It changed everything about his slash, as Sword Intent directly modified the Sharpness and his mana midway through his swing, giving it more speed, sharpness, and near invisibility. It was hardly different with the naked eye.
Sword Intent was harsh, dwelling into the Will of the swordsman and the sword itself. So of those things hadn't gotten clearer since he got it. It just got easier to unleash, but it was still no proper technique because he had less ti implenting his Path's Manualt towards it. For now, it was about concepts in sword arts that pushed and changed so limitations. It was like getting a vague sense of duty and sword, closing on the whispering Laws.
In the past day, Razmund's power increased, becoming sharper, and the power of his claymore more than doubled.
It wasn't so transformation. It was close to a second Awakening that increased swordsmanship like the sharpening of a sword. That was the first stage in Sword Intent; if barely that. Razmund believed how he cut Marshal Luno was anything but abnormal. He was spent back then, empty. The cut was almost pointless. It held nothing. No weight. No heart. Just sheer weight as he swung and cut forward.
That was not your regular cut. Razmund was yet to fully duplicate that timing, but he figured out ways to replicate similar moves through trial and error, while his Dances and simple tries after his fight with Luno bore so results. After all, his enemies were strong and his strategies were narrow.
Stolen novel; please report.
In simple terms, Sword Intent went through his claymore and back, acting around his mana and core, but also shifting so truths about his Will. Truths were a bit more complex, but it was a good start. Intents weren't stored in the core, head, or body. As its na suggested, Sword Intent was fitting for the sword to carry, and the one handling it was its bearer.
Razmund's was quite hefty and long, nad claymore for a good knock in naming sword sches, looking long, heavy, and hard to wield. It wasn't the most optimal weapon at all, yet which could be called perfect? A simple sword? Straight and less than a ter long, palm wide at the start of the handle, and reaching a sharp end?
Simplicity was art, yet wasn't a claymore just a big version of that simple sword? Razmund disagreed with that; his Manuals carried all the answers he needed, including masterful facts about the forr Sword Sage. There, he learned that questioning swords didn't matter. That he could always knock on the Sword Intent, as there were no Claymore Intent. That wasn't how Intents worked. It was still a sword but made in a way and style to fit a new na. One could even think of swords in vague terms, making up things such as finger swords, arm swords, or leg swords. All of those would fit into the Sword Intent as well.
Razmund clutched the handle in both arms, standing still, and feeling a little spent. Thus, he let the little of his Sharpness envelop the edge in thin layers. Then, the Intent changed it as he slashed in the air, still at least half a dozen ters away from Illak, who pressed his Domain forward.
Bright and quick slashes went onwards, slashing against the air in crisp pictures and sharp sounds. It was as if Razmund fought against the air itself, and the air fought back.
Air humd and sparks spread. Dozens of them happened in a mont when mana exploded, or to be precise, was cut. Sword Intent changed the way how many swordsn fought, and it was up to them to turn that into a weapon or sothing else.
For Razmund, he cut the cuts, letting his tool flow onward like a storm. Each slash was kind of weak and slower than the cut that Luno felt. This one was an experint anyway. For Illak, it felt enough. He crushed every cut with his Domain without breaking a sweat, standing still and pointing with his hand forward.
Smiling, he made sure to step onwards and changed his gesture. It was a fist.
“Don't die on ,”
Razmund got shivers again, so he directed his mana to flood out of his core. He didn't expect Illak to do this in this damned castle.
The pressure disappeared, giving Razmund ti to breathe for just one mont. Illak's Domain manifested back into his fist, acting with sheens of wind, purple light, and pressure. He stepped onward and punched the air a blink later, just when Razmund slashed forth.
Powerful cuts and bright mana clashed against one large purplish fist half as thick as the entire corridor.
Windows cracked apart in a quick crash, walls got destroyed, and since Razmund was relatively close to the side of the building, that wall turned to pieces under this clash and his body.
Purple fist disappeared under many cuts, but not before Razmund flew out of the castle, bleeding from wounds, and feeling Illak was insane. He attacked him with far too much power, though perhaps he should've expected that.
He fucked up. He far underestimated this Extre as if he was an arrogant youthful fool. He knew plenty of them from the City of Chaos. And he wasn't one of them. At least not anymore.
Out in the open, the castle was up to his view, and so was the crashed hall where Illak stood and smiled, standing in the middle of his destruction. Domain lessened and purple fist disappeared.
Razmund forced the Flying Steps in a heartbeat; falling from this height was still too much for him. Flying Steps contained simple yet potent levels, and it wasn't as if promises were important. Its evolution was nowhere near, as it hadn't gotten one ever. It was an ability that worked with Steps alone, so its progression was more in line with many martial techniques. Every Step could be Mild or Wide, determining how cracked his legs would be.
So when he was in midair, in a space with no footing, he had to push against the air itself.
Taking a long breath, ignoring his pain and wounds, Razmund kicked the air, brandishing the claymore behind his side and turning it to a storming Sharpness.
“Try my mother,” he mumbled as he exploded in mid-air, flying as he Stepped a dozen tis in a single mont, pushing himself toward Illak.
Demonic General kept his smile, feeling and seeing the incoming attack, yet when it arrived, he clapped.
At that mont, a couple of monts before him, Razmund stopped his claymore, feeling heavy. He couldn't move. Domain was fully expanded by now, looking invisible to his naked eyes. It enveloped a large area, yet it didn't crash anything since all fell to his rules. Destruction or gentle touch, Illak could handle it.
“Enough power needs a lot of validation,” he said. “Your Intent is lacking, yet you make up for it with speed, skill, and subjective latency. You don't nd it enough, or you can't cut with it enough. It is fresh like a new Law, so it makes sense that it has its limits. I suppose the point of your Level 65 acts as enough verification. You are a growing chap,” Illak assessed him in a heartbeat, feeling that the claymore was closing on him, yet was it right?
Razmund wouldn't disagree. He was yet to release it anyway.
“I said... try .” At that mont, his claymore exploded into clusters of lines, revealing his Intent that was turning into a piercing flash of many cuts that flooded toward Illak.
He still had his hands together, yet his eyes remained calm when the cuts enveloped his body. It happened for a couple of seconds before they disappeared in their successful strikes, revealing Illak unhurt and safe.
“That was better,” Illak reckoned as he watched his armor. There were so grazes in so parts. Nothing major. “Impressive. Now...”
Illak clapped and Razmund fell to the ground aside from him, kneeling and almost losing the grasp of his claymore.
“A nice greeting, general. Did you greet the previous guest a couple of hours ago like this too? I wonder... about it. Mind... to give so words?”
“Couple of hours?” Illak frowned. “It's been almost a day since then, but yes. I greeted it in my own way. Not like you would get it, human. You don't get the appeal of Anatidaes at all. They are creatures like us; reputable yet hated by the heavens. Considering the way of your different Hunt, things are different here. You are our enemy, Razmund, the Blessed. You made a lot of enemies here last ti. I wonder if you will keep this short or nice, or if the world will calm down first. Ti isn't essential, but it might be. So be like this, unless you want to die a dog's End.” Illak repeated the sa thing before his little assignnt.
Razmund glared at him as he knelt, forcing the claymore to remain in his clutch. He felt he was in Illak's grasp.
He didn't reply to him, feeling that his attack couldn't bear the weight of this Domain in the slightest. Perhaps his Second Dance could? So layering, or folding too?
Before trying another thing, Illak crashed his face to the ground with a snap of his fingers, leaving Razmund with almost no breath or sight. Then, he turned around. “We are watching over this. The military is the Order now,”
“That is laughable... coming from demons,” Razmund mumbled, facing the ground.
Illak chuckled and walked away, disappearing around the corner alongside his followers that hadn't done shit. Razmund knew they were so of his disciples. Each was not a bit worse than himself.
Doing anything harsh was perhaps good, but they sure glared at him as they stood aside, hoping to battle with him. Razmund noticed their swords aside from their hips, and their desires gleaming in their three eyes.
Getting to his feet, Razmund almost stumbled in his weakness. He needed to rest for a day or two, which... sounded terrible in this place and ti. Noticing Lint hiding around so pillar, pretending to be a lantern, he could only sigh. He was surprisingly good at it, looking as if he fit there.
When Illak disappeared, Lint floated back to Razmund's side, laughing after they exchanged glances. Throughout this welcoming, he didn't voice a single thing. He had nothing to do with anything, after all. Illak had all authority in this castle, and it seed to be well above him when he decided to act like this. From his Guide's perspective, Levandis sent Illak's welco to Razmund with harshness fit for his problem.
“Well, what a nice greeting, wasn't it? If I hadn't seen one before, I would bet he wanted to kill for real,” Razmund joked, forcing his legs to remain straight by griping them with his arms that hurt as well. He felt his claymore weightened like a pillar, pressing to his leg like his Dice.
“He was right, though,” Lint argued. “You shouldn't take this Gate for anything like before. Don't stir trouble. Walk straight. Don't make more enemies than necessary. This place has enough trouble already. But don't take any face for granted. Power runs supre. Cut those who deserve it. Ignore those who don't.”
Lint talked as if he was giving a lecture
“So loose,” Razmund grunted.
“But you heard him!” Lint pointed at him with his remaining arm.
“And I wasn't listening. What had he said again? Sothing about cutting a Guide? Will bones make a good stock if they are bone dry and with no at? Well, how do those flas taste like?”
Lint never heard him joke in this way. Sothing in this Blessed snapped for real, or was his clash against Illak so terrible that his mind beca a mush? He watched the change happen in real ti, so he wasn't sure if Razmund was a ticking bomb or an utter disaster.
“Seriously, is your head alright? I worry about your ti here.”
“As you should. Your situation got blown with mine. I wouldn't mind taking a different approach before, but... I wasn't happy.”
“Now you are?”
“Why wouldn't I? The world turned into an Old World. If not fun like a nice change of pace, what is it? It is like the stories I've heard since I was young or old. Well, older, this isn't wrong. Just different. It won't stop . I've heard of different worlds and history. The universe is big and the power of Divides rules the cosmos and stars. What is there for ?”
Lint looked at him in bewildernt, knowing that the Old World was a fitting analogy, but was that right to hear it from him? Gods won't take that in such a direction, but what if so hidden powers and monsters made their move? For example, the Centralis Kingdom had no known Gods serving as protectors in exchange for so Offerings or subjects. They were intense and arrogant, and they already proved that by influencing this Enoucnter behind the scenes. It was one of the few things Lint had acknowledged thanks to Mindarch.
Lint was nearly certain that so continents took this change for a much wilder disaster than the Somalis continent.
He couldn't imagine how Radagan was right now, or Noah. Those places were filled to the brim with problems even with the intact Will of the Battleworld. It wasn't greed or Chaos. Just... problematic, wild, and definitely not adhering to the Gods and nations, let alone so religions and churches.
Razmund coughed. “I was too focused on my face feeling the stone. Well, my sword was there too, cutting and moving on my own. Nearly cut Illak in half, hadn't it?” Razmund tried to downplay his situation, appearing rather casual about yet another clash with an Extre, so he stored his claymore back in its cluttering spot.
Taking his hands to his pockets, he returned to his journey to Helltrim City, looking wobbly, hurt, and tired. There, his ti will shine again, or... turn much worse. He rembered the way forward, but before he knew it, a rather late ssage from Mindarch erged, voicing his task that every Surface Challenger had.
Stopping in the middle of the stairs, Razmund focused on the voice of this little gremlin who was far too mischievous, but also fair. He hoped for both of them.
It was a strange habit, even though he had fewer reasons to focus on Mindarch or this target that much. After all, he wasn't here for his mission any longer. He was here to hunt his prey, get over this Encounter, and reach fully-fledged rewards that would decrease the further his Parts would go if he failed. The quicker he would be, the better.
Murai was in this Gate, close or far from him, unobscured by so Islands, a web of corridors, or bridges. His Destiny Dice would allow him to see where he was hiding, regardless of so hidden dens or places, though if soone like Alius made up so move again, perhaps that Dice wouldn't like it.
Mindarch spoke quickly, giving Razmund what he deserved. It had nothing hidden or weird. It was a straight ssage.
“Sector 72? That is a bit far. Red Province is also a proving ground... with that Sector being...”
“72?” Lint reckoned behind him.
“Well, fuck my luck, or your superiors, Lint,” he shot the half skeleton a curious glance. “I don't like dealing with Lurrs for many good reasons. Do you know why? Their family is insane and the fortresses are greedy like their hearts. It reeks of sturdiness that is almost like mine, so crashing against them would... seem like trouble coming at . I don't want that, Lint. You said it like Illak. Why this target? Do you want to see problems that much?”
“Don't look at this way. This ti, it isn't anything weird. They take you seriously, so you should take it the sa with respect too. I doubt Lurrs hates you. They just don't like you. That is better, right?”
“No worries there. Bodies or humans or devils are made of tissues of at, muscles, and blood. They look almost the sa from within too. I will cut everything in the way, but it is a bit strange. I suppose it's part of third-tirs. That or your fuckers are forcing to take another fucked up challenge. I will take it; others will do the sa.”
Lint hoped he was right in his head and heart. Previously, Razmund felt much more threatening and sharper. This ti, he was also sharp, but the occasional smile and snarly comnts gave him a different feeling. Wrong feeling, he thought, unsure if he was right or justified.
It sounded like he enjoyed the prospect of this forr planet too much, which might co to bite them later.
Stopping beside so window, he almost said another joke, until he saw the ground level. Then, he gulped so potions, before tossing the empty glass to the ground where it shattered.
Clutching his throat and chest, the effects of the Heart Seizing Potion felt as if his heart was bursting apart, but Vitality and his body needed it. It took nearly five minutes for his body to go over the pain, regenerating hundreds of tis faster, and giving his mind yet another stress. That was sothing that needed sothing better. A sleep, perhaps.
Lint didn't co close to him. He felt Razmund wouldn't like it and would clutch his throat or chest.
Huffing a cold breath, Razmund soon stabilized his body, feeling stressed and his face turned cold. “Very well, I will look at this Gate while catching my prey. Let's go,” Razmund uttered, before gesturing for Lint to follow him.
Unlike Lorry, Lint had no clear summon from Levandis, though he knew he couldn't follow Razmund through the Hellscape for very long.
On the ground level, Razmund needed no instructions or help to get to the streets. But around this castle, he watched how the military was quite busy. Mostly demons in military uniforms or various devils in stranger clothes, they left him be, but so weren't taking his gaze and existence that well.
Razmund felt many murderous looks, and many squads wanted to charge at him. They didn't do it because of Lint or they couldn't afford it personally.
Either way, it was welcod, or expected. Razmund didn't want to fight the entire military that must be in a frenzy as Illak proclaid. So-called Order was up to their devices, so Levandis wanted to clutch the problems with power.
Razmund figured it wasn't wrong, believing that the Helltrim City's non-fighting rules should still be right. It was because of this castle that very few murders and fights happened in this city.
eting with a gaze of familiarity and hideous dangers and threats, he sharpened his face and heart. His body was ready to take this Hellscape, though his mind wasn't. Nobody attacked him.
Disappointing.
Taking a breath as he reached the front yard, he took a good look around. “Ah, a demonic hell. How long it has been? I wonder how many kills I will get this ti around, how many will want mine, and how much the Lurrs will moan,” He wondered as he stepped into the street.
It didn't take long for more troubles to find him.
“A human?” a large four-ter-tall demon grunted right around the corner, appearing like a strange abomination that had trouble speaking and walking. “A snack ca to this place at last! Gahaha! Fuck off from where you ca from, the Guide included! Fucking human trash. Challenger!” the Abomination flickered its fleshly hand, as it resembled a human in a rough sense, but it was grotesque, filled with fleshly crevices, and flowing blood. At least it had a large cloth around it, secured by a belt where the hip t small legs. It hardly helped with hiding most of its hideous features.
Its head wasn't that of a human. It had many eyes all over it, and the mouth went from left and right, looking wide and far too large. It attacked straight away, forming a wide palm strike with its large hand akin to a pillar.
Aiming at Razmund without warning or a duel, it didn't give a shit about the rules anymore. It was yet another test, Razmund figured, but this one was most likely presented by so gangs, or so company in this city.
Flesh Abomination was expendable. Its life was long forfeited.
Palm arrived like a small mountain, enveloping Razmund's whole upper body, head included. He sneered, letting his claymore dance in the light as he drew it with two fingers.
A single Mild Step echoed, followed by sword clashes, hues of light, and tremors from the ground. A single step later, a quick draw of the claymore shredded the blood and flesh. Its tip faced the ground, close to Razmund's feet. Behind him, the Flesh Abomination hiccuped in flesh and blood, falling to the ground in its halves.
The cut went from the head, down to the right leg. Flesh and gore stumbled to the ground, ending the life of a Level 59 Flesh Abomination Demon.
Surrounding demons, devils, and all kinds of other bystanders scattered away, realizing that Razmund had arrived.
Among them, a human boy was also present, taking this situation without surprise, and quickly taking the distant streets by storm. It was Marthosh, who took this sight well, despite the overall situation being not that calm. He was fearful of this human, even though he shouldn't be. It was said that the Centralis Kingdom was a human paradise, but... from the way David talked about it, it was far from the truth.
Razmund clutched his claymore, knowing that he was attacked first. It didn't matter who or what, he had the right to defend himself.
“A good day to you all, indeed. Now, does anyone care to give sothing nice and worthy in exchange? I have so spots left!” he shouted, openly proclaiming not-so-large secrets that were yet to shake the public and gangs around the Hellscape.
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