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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 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
372 Chs

Daycare Worker

Purple mist gathered around the little boy, growing in density by the second. The purple mist abruptly shot forward, slipping past the trees like a shadow.

Willow didn't have time to move to the side. The purple mist was simply too fast. It latched onto Apollo, prompting him to tilt his head to the side.

"Hm? What was that?"

The boy's purple eyes glowed. Then, his body morphed into a small green ball, rapidly approaching Apollo.

In just a second, the boy reappeared. He was clinging onto Apollo like a koala.

Purple mist once again coalesced around the boy. He raised his head into the air and opened his mouth wide.

"Raaah!"

Then... the boy froze.

"Shut up."

Willow held her black sword less than a centimeter away from the boy's face, prompting him to cease his actions and disperse the purple mist.

They were standing on top of a tree branch, as still as a statue.