Mono/Dialogue"

  'Inner thoughts'

  Narration

  [Message/communication apparatus]

  Date: September 1090

  Location: Trimounts, Columbia.

  POV: Narrator

  High-rise buildings, modern architectural designs, and even the fir of futuristic outlook dotted the mobile cities of Trimounts.

  Yes, cities.

  This is just their average method of keeping things stable because Columbia touted itself with its hyper-advanced rate of either technological breakthroughs or inexhaustible economic drive. To migrate mobile cities like this daily, the surge of settlers and migrants never stopped, thus necessitating the increase in numbers while cranking their economy to unbelievable heights for a retive newcomer to Terran politics.

  Columbia is a giant, a young one it may be, but a giant nonetheless. Using its touted, vaunted, and even exploited Columbian Dream.

  Cures of highly infectious diseases were researched at breakneck speed with a precision that would make other nations green with envy. Vehicles and contraptions seldom seen in the more conservative nations are dotting the very pavement that was trodden by hundreds of thousands of people. Its core popution is still very young, resourceful, and skilled, and most importantly with a greater degree of freedom than most citizens could ever dream.

  A young country full of potential that could no longer be viewed with ridicule. Immigrants and those who seek to prosper traveled far and wide to reach Columbia, their objective is the same; a better tomorrow. Columbia understands its appeal, and it gives out schorships like candy even when the caveats are something that might make you regret it, still worth a shot to get ahead in life.

  Competition is fierce, with economic or societal groups colpsing and merging to then repeat the process all over again. The country while made up of Liberi for the most part, is much more accommodating to everyone who seeks a refuge or pce for themselves. One could see Anaty, Cautus, and even Ursus famed for their racial problems walking side by side due to necessity, camaraderie, or design.

  Sarkaz could also be seen from time to time, while there is the usual apprehension, they rarely have any fear of being lynched out of nowhere. Made even better for them since their Arts compatibility and skills are sought after by researchers and interested parties, allowing freedom to an unprecedented degree compared to the shithole of blood and mud that is Kazdel.

  Columbia is a nation that was built upon the blood of settlers who came from many walks of life. The freedom they had right now was reflected in the many people who strive up to the famous Columbian standard for excellence and inexhaustible dream of a better tomorrow. Nation of idealists and critical thinkers that never shy away from the prospect of advancement.

  Despite their freedom and utterly unusual government where people vote who would lead them, a point of criticism from conservative and rigid authoritarian governments all over Terra, like all the matters regarding statecraft, Columbia is not as bright as its popurity suggests. Columbia, especially its sophisticated industries and driving force of modernization has a staggeringly high number of how fast something could be built or crumbled to dust. Waves upon waves of graduates or interns are devoured and discarded as fast as a Victorian factory could produce goods.

  Its international reach has been on a decline, especially after the embarrassing incompetence of its DoD and Army in their intervention in Bolivar. They may have established a pro-Columbian Government, but it constituted almost a third of their influence in the beleaguered country. Money and manpower spent on what the people called a waste have been a vocal point to neuter their military invention to design weapons of apocalyptic proportion.

  That brought forth unto the nexus of its expansion, growth, and prosperity, the capitalistic and scientific pursuit Columbia promotes are second to none. One would be hard-pressed to find a city that does not have dozens of corporations vying for control. The less-than-a-century-old country’s reputation was further blemished by accusations of meddling in not only Bolivar but also Kazimierz, Siesta, Sargon, and even distant Lungmen.

  That in itself is worthy of attention, but it paled in their perceived incompetence in keeping their people in check. Companies and corporations vie for control of its many potential avenues, for they truly believe nothing is too out of reach. Such as the Wright family’s household who vowed to breach the sky only ended up in disaster, leaving their only daughter to inherit a legacy considered dead in the water.

  Experimentation is an activity so benign in this country, that as long as it doesn’t embarrass them and is not done with utter folly then all is fair. Starting from very simple research into how to understand tourist preference up, but not limited, to enhancing the pcement of armored pting on an exosuit to its maximum potential and many more horrifying accusations that have been denied as mere snders.

  The prospect of breakthrough and single-minded fanaticism to be the best in their field often led experts to overextend. Witnesses of innumerable atrocities were reluctant to speak up due to NDA and other more forceful means.

  It doesn’t help how non-infected workers’ sary is pced just right to not make them compcent and zy but enough to keep them busy and wanting but satisfied to keep their lives. This bance came at the cost of work hours which could not be mitigated else you’ll lose your job. You could try to fight for it in the court, but that’s expensive and corporation doesn’t have to win to defeat these powerless worker ants.

  Oh, had it been mentioned how because of the skill ceiling meant that anything less would not be able to compete? Or how does one could procure permits to make a decent living? There are matters about security and safety too, surely no one wanted to see their hard work be seen as illegal? So many things, so little safety netting.

  All these complications are for the non-infected citizen. What about the people who were dealt the shittiest card on Terra? Well, they are not doing so hot, to dignify it sufficiently.

  Infected are forced to subscribe to government-approved medical programs with interest adjusted on their life. The average Columbian could net 6000 Columbian Dolrs a month, but healthcare often costs months if not years of their sary. Infected could barely scrounge a third of that every month, and because of a loophole in Infected health coverage w, the pce where they live often charges extra under the guise of their good.

  When the average healthy popuce must trade an arm and leg for medical care, it is much worse for the Infected who are often cheated of a medicine that keeps them away from having their every waking moment a living hell. Many bright-eyed individuals are seldom to not be framed or made a victim of an accident, forcing a cruel choice onto them. Choices that are numerous fvoring of eternal mockery for their inferiority or brave catastrophe as pioneers for a modicum of mock pity from insidious colleagues while the good keep their silence.

  This made the problem of public security a hot topic. Thankfully, no matter how well someone put it, radical statements are frowned upon. Not only would it leave a bad aftertaste, but those who pyed the hearts of the masses would use that same word to dethrone their rival. In other words, this self-replicating and stagnating problem is a Politician's asset for reelection.

  Being infected doesn’t make someone a criminal, how they were treated does. Despite that societal hurdle, Columbia made the best and worst solution to combat the spike in criminal acts while keeping the positive PR strong. That solution is letting nature select who is fit to continue. Those who succeed become assets of interest, and those who don’t become one less headache in-country management; a maze with no end in sight.

  Or, the many, many scandals of experimentation and general abuse using legal loopholes. The story of pioneers trudging and growing prosperous in the wastend is a show of pragmatic conduct. These settlers are, to no one surprises, usually made up of those lower in their hierarchy and food chain. The poor, the criminals, and the infected are often saddled with debt that cannot be paid and thus made eligible to be sent into the wild with rudimentary equipment and a pat on their backs.

  This is the country that our ashen-haired Pythia has been very reluctant to visit too often, her puzzling nature would be an enticing bait for many spirited researchers. A drop of her blood would fetch billions and her body is priceless. Suck to suck however, she won’t be able to make much progress if she refrains from taking risks too often. There is that matter of personal pride too; her ethics to do her best if contracted legitimately.

  Pushing down a heavy sigh, Nyx drives her bike closer to the checkpoint. Her entrance garnered gnces or stares of admiration with a few boys and girls pretty much swooning. Her fame appears to hold amongst the common popuce or perhaps staring as one of the models for Vitafield and Marthe pushed her fame into a more amicable light.

  While waiting for her turn to be checked by the border guards, Nyx thinks over her assignment given by Catastrophe Messenger. She was requisitioned to deliver letters to the newly founded Rhine Labs and Maynder Foundation respectively. Nyx had worked in limited capacity for the tter but the former is still an enigma. Supposedly, Kirsten Wright is a once-in-a-century kind of genius.

  Her papers on stars, astronomy, and flight perfected from her parents’ legacy take the media by storm. The golden-haired Perro's forward-facing personality was an amicable and well-mannered Lady. She had won awards from many organizations and garnered the Government’s eyes. Recently, she announced the separation of Rhine Labs into several departments such as Science and Defense respectively.

  ‘Wonder what kind of person is she? Conrad had reported how the Young Lass was very proactive when approached by Cordelia. Although…’ Nyx's brows are knitted minutely, she remembered another person of interest.

  ‘Saria, Head of Rhine Labs Defense Department. Currently, assessment-wise, she is inexperienced in real combat, but trained and knowledgeable. Conrad dug deeper and found that she has a rocky retionship with her father that is no doubt riddled with mental abuse… huh…’

  The Pythia is not so sure about that cim, but since Conrad had gotten close with Kirsten’s company she thought it was worth a shot to foster a beneficial partnership while being non-committal. She knows of Columbia's darker tendency, but surely a new company won’t jump the gun immediately? Actual truth remains to be seen so status quo it is.

  Her pondering was interrupted when a light gait but disciplined steps approached. She turns her head zily to see a civilian officer with… excessively positive emotion. She almost recoiled from the feedback of her synapse, akin to dealing with a fanatic of hers again.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Nyx!” He said energetically, possibly salivating underneath that mask of his, and Nyx tried her best to act courteously. For all intents and purposes, this gate guard might have a bad day and she is not so shitty to kick someone when they are down and especially if they done her no wrong.

  “Good afternoon, officer, do you need something from me?”

  “Pardon my intrusion, Lady Grey Serpent, we had just been informed that you’re allowed to take the government’s affiliate nes, the Mayor has a matter of importance he wishes to discuss with you.” Nyx naturally raised her suspicion, especially at how quickly they reacted to her arrival. Then again, free entry and avoiding the sun gring down her beautiful face is a welcome exchange.

  “I see, please send him my regards and thanks.”

  “That I shall and… uh…” He fidgets and his face turns red for some reason. His hands started roaming around his pockets and there were some curses here and there. At this point, everyone else notices him fumbling about. The Pythia could only pity the man, his superior would be very furious. His fumbling ends and after taking a deep breath, he takes out his pen and a piece of paper with a trembling hand.

  “CanIhaveanautograph!?You’remyidolsincethenineteenthkazimierzmajor’ssurpriseconcert!Pleasepleasepleaseplease!” Nyx recoiled on her bike, her brows scrunched in astonishment and disgust… and that just made the security officer even more excited. She watched as his colleagues behind him tried their best to pretend none of them knew about the person she was dealing with. He apparently couldn’t care less about the other people waiting in line looking at him weirdly either.

  “… Heh… sure.” Then again, his shamelessness and eagerness felt quite endearing in a twisted kind of way and so she obliged. It felt too cruel to deny an eager stray puppy small treats, and thus she gave him an extra on the signature.

  She eyed the signature upon that previously bnk and somewhat crumpled sheet. Yet her fan’s joy eclipsed any disdain she might have. So to… appreciate… his courage, she batted one of her eyeshes and brought that piece of once inconsequential paper close to her lips. He gasps watching what Nyx is about to do, even his colleagues and the onlookers’ eyes are wide with surprise.

  Her soft and light shade of pink lipstick is now etched on the side of her autograph. She said her thanks and took the reserved ne, utterly leaving everyone watching fbbergasted. If there is anything she learned from being a public figure, fanservice is also a good way to shake off naughtier peeping toms.

  He shrieked like a man possessed by his long-dead ancestor before ughing like mad. He cradled the paper like long lost relic of a bygone era. Something that would make him an object of envy for many years to come, but suffice it to say… Fortune favors the bold and the moron since there is a very thin line separating bravery and idiocy.

  POV: Nyx

  After yet another god-awful luncheon or ‘Hey guys, look at what I have!’ game, I was finally released by the Mayor. He never stops pitching his son or daughter to me, even throwing in little bits and pieces about their family and connection to the central government in Max DC. The man had ‘kindly’ introduced me to notable figures such as spokespersons of weapon manufacturing corporations, professors and experts from vaunted pharmaceutical companies, infamous, monopolizing, fast food branch shareholders, and many other high-profile figures.

  I know his game, even if he failed to employ me, the fact that I obediently followed him around like an exotic animal for the exhibition had raised his stocks. Am I mad? Not really, this is convenient for me. Acting like a more mellowed, demure, and dumb bitch had been working in my favor for so long, so why bother? If they wanna brag me around as a badge of honor then go for it, never going to be the st of it, I’m sure.

  Besides, I had gone so far ahead of the curve of giving a single flying fuck about which asshole in the block ciming they had made me suck their dick or cunt. Even a sizable number of his so-called guests could see through his bullshits, and politely made compliments amongst themselves. This sort of word game and trying to kiss ass is the reason I despise getting too close to politics. At least my hypocrisies would all be my own, but in politics? Eh, muddy water muddy feelings.

  The luncheon wasn’t 100% terrible though, simply because I had met a Maynder employee there, a retively successful Sarkaz surprisingly speaking. The woman lit up like a goddamn firework when I complimented her, but she maintained her professionalism intact if discounting her flushed expression. It makes me wonder just how many admirers are there who develop parasocial retionships with me.

  When I was about to continue pying my part in the luncheon, she said that I had no reason to rush; the Maynder Foundation had all the time in the world for me. I would very much leave as soon as possible, thank you. She was saddened by the polite version of my refusal but offered me a ride to my destination in exchange and since I had no reason to brush this one off, I accepted.

  Of course, to keep up my appearance, the Mayor gifted me with cold hard cash and trinkets to show off wealth and shit. Maybe I should change my occupation to a clown, I got paid easier this way but I kinda like helping Catastrophe Messenger. Did it stroke my ego? Undoubtedly. Did it make me happy? Absolutely.

  Shaking off that thought, I made my way outside of the building. There I see the Sarkaz, still dressed to the nine with her bodyguards. When she saw me, she smiled and politely bowed. Her bodyguards’ emotion immediately turned into fear though…

  “I hope I didn’t make you wait for long?”

  “Nonsense, if anything I feel bad to have you all for myself. Feels like I had cheated, and didn’t you know that there have been talks between fashion magazines to contact you? The test edition of Barrennd Hunting Uniform was a massive hit amongst paramilitary and mercenaries. Vitafield rake millions from the first day alone.”

  That reminds me, I did have an appointment to discuss a contract with Bloodline of Combat and Striker about photo shoots. I heard from Conrad that these had butted heads in legal grounds for, and I quote, ‘Unwful Monopoly and Breach of MOU’ that got the government dragged into it. I just shrugged, they want me to model not dealing with that kind of crap.

  One thing is sure to happen: I will not model for Coral Coast. If I did, then someone must have bckmailed me to wear a bikini in public or Mwi asked me to. The chance of it being the tter is abysmal though, he is too blockheaded to insinuate innuendos.

  Her talking and prattling about fashion goes on for a hot minute, with her bodyguards getting increasingly uncomfortable. Props to them, they are professional. Once she is satisfied with her enlightenment session, I give her a reply.

  “I’m afraid I was too busy pulling catastrophe victims or corpses out of rubble to pay attention to that, but thanks.” Her bodyguards flinch after hearing my snarky reply, but she cared not about that and nodded with a childish sort of joy. Her emotion is not as bad as the border officer, but it is close…

  We continued talking over it inside her limousine, and her bodyguard asked me about how they wanted to handle my bike. I just let it follow us on autopilot, a neat little feature that has been accompanying me for years. This world and its schizo futuristic renaissance tech…

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  We part ways once reaching the building. It is very… how should I say it? Artistic or perhaps historic? The architecture is no different than a museum and the security is very x. I heard that Maynder had a hand in my fields such as Archeology, Geography, and History. The foundation prides itself on being very altruistic with its orphanage and catastrophe prevention teams being one of the best around.

  Of course, Conrad had a different idea. Simply because he couldn’t manage to penetrate even its periphery. For a notably charitable and public company, they sure aren’t acting like one. After one too many failures, he gave up and cautioned me to tread lightly. My bike is parked underground, space is not cheap in Columbia.

  I walked to the entrance and the receptionist recognized me. She smiled and politely greeted me with the usual courtesy. The receptionist told me that I was expected to hand in the letter myself, so I just confirmed the simple checks and documentation before being ushered inside.

  The building surely feels like a museum for real. I observed the many paintings and findings that Columbia had gathered ever since the time of the Victorian colonization effort. Many awards and technological marvels are painted with vivid color and gilded with silver or gold. That made me furrow my brows because something just clicked.

  The pce is really quiet, and I failed to see anyone around here.

  “I take it, you have been enjoying the view, Lady Grey Serpent?” A woman’s voice called out to me from the right. I turn my head to the side to see grey-haired Liberi… or a Pythia? She wore rather eccentric clothing with a mesh of green, white, and bck. She strutted confidently, her rge tail moving from and fro with interest.

  “… Not wrong, and who am I speaking with?”

  “Oh, where is my manners?” She bowed gracefully, but there was this hint of pyful haughtiness in her grandiose gestures. Her mouth curled into a smirk, and her fanged mouth provided an air of mystique on her expression.

  “My name is Ho’olheyak, a mere mercenary, researcher, and avid historian. I’m concurrently under the purview of Maynder so that I may join its historical department to embark upon an illustrious journey. Mayhap I found myself witnessing a moment of the past be revived?” A grin that only made me grow more suspicious as time passed by. I don’t need my synapse to know that this woman is an even greater threat than Cande.

  “… Nyx, former mercenaries, now a 24/7 courier and Contingency Contract Chief Paramilitary Consultant. If you need something delivered quickly then contact your nearest CM office, and see if I’m free. Expenses depend on cargo and whatnot.”

  Her timing is peculiar, but let’s test that knowledge of her. I turn my eyes back on the painting. It depicted a man clutching a sword, probably a saber to be specific while hanging off the rails of what appears to be a battleship. The dated frame also told about the age of it, a conforming blend between the past and the present.

  “Then as a historian, you surely understand the tale behind its conception? Call it schorly interest, a woman could never have too much knowledge.” Gesturing at the painting, she turns her eyes on it. A gleeful expression added more fvor on top of her bewitching smile, a woman such as hers wouldn’t be here without reason.

  “Ah yes, the very painting where the cry of ‘Terra Bless Us’ has been immortalized. President Max agreed that it is a fitting symbol for Columbia's self-determination.” She walks and stands beside me, and never seems to forget to funt herself. She takes a thinking pose, or perhaps just a way to grind my nerves when she winked.

  “Maynder Selene, one of the Columbian founding figures and the namesake of this foundation had once rallied the burgeoning militia into a unified force called the Revolutionary Army along with many others. Very picturesque and romanticized view when men are dying in the thousands for measly gains and intangible ideas, no?”

  Did she just mock them for their less-than-stelr start? Who would do that? Maybe she has someone backing her or she is someone powerful enough to criticize the nation by herself? Let’s see where she drew the line.

  “Not hard to imagine, they’re facing the might of the Victorian military, no matter how diminished. There is only so much an enthusiastic but hastily put-together army could hope to match well-drilled soldiers, no matter how corrupt they seem. When even adequate skills are augmented by heavy artillery, you’re in for a bad time regardless.”

  “Indeed, but all changed when the first President took to the field and flipped the war with his rousing speeches and leadership. The Duke of Tybalt’s falcies and failing, outside supports, and many factors did indeed have their part in it, but no one could deny that Columbia’s tenacity was unassaible. Battle of Babbage proves to be the limit for Victoria, made ever more controversial for their refusal of being under Gaulish rule.”

  “Must have been a messy post-war recovery. Bandits and highwaymen abound, inftion and isotion, due to the death and structuring of governing bodies, keeping opportunist merchants in check, and too many things to list.”

  “True, but people prosper from highs of conflict, to witness its ebb and flow and predict which winning number there is. What would not change though?” She flickered her eyes on me, her serpentine tongue briefly licking the corner of her lips.

  “… I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  “Criminals could be heroes, and vice versa. Lady Baroness.”

  “…” My eyes narrowed, one of my hands subconsciously snaking its way on my sheathed bde.

  “I know you would agree, especially how thrilling would the aftermath look like. One such as you is integral in controlling chaos.” This woman noticed my shift in demeanor, and her hand clutched her staff tighter. My synapse had been bathed with warnings bordering madness, and all were pointing at her.

  “There are many justifications to enforce change, and perhaps that is all well true and noble only from a specific point of few. Take Columbian for example, they fought for a country with, at the time, foreign and alien design in matters of statesmanship. Rules not enforced by noble blood? Commoners choosing their leaders? Government’s guarantee of free speech? What foreign concepts, weren’t they?”

  “Of course. Which made this country seen as an eyesore by many others.”

  “So how come they still stand?” She invaded my personal space, our bodies pushing against one another. Her mocking smile met my stern expression. I doubt she doesn’t understand that I could loosen her head with a flick of my wrist, but I also doubt it would be that easy.

  “Great people, with great ambition. That being said, nothing beats an ideali- oh my~.” This serpent tried to touch my chin, but my hand was faster. I squeezed her wrist, enough to make it painful but without sting injury. Although I met resistance from what felt like steel.

  ‘Exosuit huh?’ Regardless, I pressed on, and the crunching noise of steel being crumpled could be heard. That doesn’t seem to make her get the point. If anything, her smile turned feral, challenging and defying the warning I transmitted physically.

  Instead of trying to pry her wrist off my crushing grip, her fingers choose and dare brush on mine. The Serpentine woman continues her self-aggrandizing monologue, with now perfectly unveiled haughtiness.

  “Nails that stick out must be hammered back down, that is the common saying. Then what if it could not be so? You could discard them, conceal them, and even destroy them… The real problem starts when an incompetent craftsman leaves too many sticking out.” She let out a hollow ugh, half-mocking but also pitying the subject at hand.

  “Unlike Columbia’s craftsmen who committed themselves to their craft despite their unorthodox design, others merely copied them. Imperfectly if I must say so myself.”

  “Craftsmen shouldn’t steal other’s works.”

  “Correct, but how would you differentiate between incompetence and neglect? You can make soldiers to be correct, but what about civilians? Surely you won’t put them on the wringer to correct them, right~?” She is just pissing me off now, and I could see how her cloak shimmered and wind filled the hallway.

  ‘So her Arts is wind-based huh?’ She is dancing around the subject. Was she gauging me? My mental synapse discerned interest but of what kind? Who is she? So many questions but so few answers.

  “… Maybe I’m tired, but surely I wasn’t contracted to debate philosophy with a random woman. I’m just a messenger, and I have my obligation to attend to. It would do well for you to see to yours, Miss Ho’olheyak.” She smiled and nodded. Yet that smile of hers never waned and only gained intensity.

  “Verily, but you reciprocate nonetheless. Ladies like us should be acquainted, who knows an exciting discovery is just on the horizon. To create a history together~.” She said sweetly, but her tail snaked around yet mine has been following hers all the same. A silvery and lithe tail against her ginormous shade of onyx with a bluish shine.

  The air stilled and froze, and our mirroring expression has now been dyed with hostility.

  My annoyance bled into growls, and Arts slowly pumped all across my body. Ho’olheyak’s Arts did so as well, forming and gathering into a nigh-invisible shield or barrier constructed of esoteric wind, presumably of her prowess.

  “What do you want, bitch?” Forcing that wrestled wrist on our side, I keep cracking on it but she is not at all bothered. She is attuned deeply with delight at my blunt aggression.

  “Nothing much, I only wish to pay my respect to the most sought-after wench in the city.” Her Arts cd her wrist, I could feel small cuts and tickling pain trying to convince me to let go. I did not and only increased the pressure, her smile cracked to an audible grunt. Those turquoise eyes sharpened.

  Before we could start killing each other for real, a person coughed loudly.

  “If I may interject, dear dies…” A voice called out to us from another direction. We turn our heads there to see a man… or a robot. His body is made of metal, he is wearing the typical, or stereotypical, detective getup with a blend of common working man uniform. His metallic face could form some basic expression but nothing too eye-rising otherwise.

  Ho’olheyak’s smile returned to its more scivious sort without the hostility, and we soon distanced ourselves. Her heels ccked on the floor with rhythmic steps while my boots silently glided away. Now our attention is back to the newcomer.

  “Lady Nyx and Miss Ho’olheyak, I implore both of you to please be mindful of the surroundings. Your dispy of intimacy could provoke unsavory rumors and unwanted attention.”

  “Hmph…”

  “My deepest apology, Mr. Chairman. I was merely thrilled to meet a woman of such stature and simirity. Wouldn’t you say so as well, Lady Nyx?”

  “… If that stature includes being invariably annoying, sure…”

  “Oh my, oh my~, did I come too strongly? That’s strange~, aren’t you accomplished to make people fall in line~? I would love to be under your expert guidance. Fufufu~.” Should I clock this stray strumpet after all? My patience is finite.

  Of course, our hostility to each other made the Chairman sigh in exasperation. It is not my fault, she started it and I just answered in kind.

  “Ahem, now please follow me and for Lady Nyx, the letter’s content shall be discussed soon. As you may have acquainted yourself with this dy here, she is Ho’olheyak. An associate of Maynder and perhaps soon to be a part of our Historical department.” … Oh fuck, am I supposed to be working with her?

  ‘God fucking dammit…’

  [END OF CHAPTER]

  Author’s Note:

  Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who wonders if he should publish his other works or not.

  2 gorgeous snake dies had met, quite surprising eh? Ho’olheyak has been that side character that made either the event miserable or fun. What could not be understated would be her very suggestive voice lines, so much so that some joked she had shafted Mumu of her own banner.

  Nyx dislike is so apparent or perhaps she is jealous? Eh, she would be meeting the sultry K’ukulkan from here on out.

  This is the first chapter update for this month. I feel like an idiot for not publishing all at the same time st month.

  Ciao