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Chapter 133: A Tample In The Mist
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Chapter 135: You Can Call Me Vyuk
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... ould understand.
His ribs screamed. His back throbbed. His lungs were barely holding onto the concept of breathing. He tried to slide back, crawl away, do anything—but before he could retreat even an inch, a hand clamped around his ankle like a vice.
"No—"
He wanted to scream, to vanish, to turn invisible. Anything but this. But the grip around his ankle was unbreakable—like steel wrapped in anger. His mind raced.
"Is this how it ends?"
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