#036
Thankfully, Seojun managed to keep his composure, avoiding the embarrassment of staining his worn-out jeans. The reason behind it was as clear as day.
LadyhotcombTL
#040
Walking around the Capital’s Cathedral in my country bumpkin attire would’ve definitely turned heads. So, I ended up with a cloak to cover it up.
Damn, this thing weighs a ton.
#035
Seojun barely had time to process the soldier’s gruesome end. His golden ratio appearance was like a fleeting work of art. Monster X, the man-eating alien, shook the ex-soldier so violently with its tentacles that his limbs were ripped off. The force was too much - his neck couldn’t withstand the strain and tore off.
#039
“I’ll come by as an apprentice paladin and check in on you often. You can fill me in on what’s been happening then.”
Why does he look so pleased with his idea?
#034
In the chaos of battle, Golden emerged as an unexpected trump card.
Even if Brass had been captured, killed, or interrogated, Gas Mask could have only known about Golden fleeing the Hamon campsite following Richard’s death. But surprisingly, Golden returned for some reason. Maybe his judgement was a bit off thanks to his drug use.
#038
“Anyway, after you’re ordained, you’re officially appointed as a reader for your family. Though you’re no longer a noble in the strict sense, you can still live with your family, or even take up residence in the church...
#033
As Seojun hurtled downwards in that spinning, dizzying descent, a pang of regret hit him. His mind raced, replaying the confrontation with Gas Mask, filled with what-ifs and second thoughts.
#037
Honestly, this bastard system is seriously frustrating! It can’t even show a name above a unit’s head. It’s not user-friendly at all!
Tertius... curly silver hair, those unique mint-green eyes... he’s the sixth Apostle. Still, his exact title remains a mystery. And he’s got that ability to see emotions as colors.
#032
Gas Mask instinctively stepped back, his heel scraping the floor in a sound that seemed to echo ominously. His eyes landed on the thin, tangled mess of hair slipping through his gloved fingers, the damp strands long like a rock star’s wild hair, clinging to his glove like strands of seaweed.
#036
“I’m sorry. That was a mistake.”
“Please, let go of my hand.”
‘What should I do now?’
The moment Tertius let go, he was worried that Fabio might seize the opportunity to flee. But continuing to hold him would only fan the flames of his fear.