3_Sins_Studios

Life from birth has been nothing but hell. I lost my parents to some stupid aristocrats whom they offended. Executed for no good reason.

My relatives abandoned me and pushed me aside. They feared for their lives and left me and my sister to starve and wander the streets alone!

No, this is worse than hell!

I watched my sister die of starvation. Her lips were dry and her feet bloody. Her nails were broken and her fingers riddled with cuts. She struggled in my hands and after a few seconds of struggle she passed away. She seemed joyful in death so I prayed mine will come just as swift and merciful as hers.

So I stayed in the alleyway, alone with her rotten corpse awaiting my fate for God knows how long. I could see it already. The darkness encroaching from all sides

Everyone said death is scary but I say it's the end! Who needs life after death? What is the need for reincarnation?

Who would want to return to this crazy world?

"It's not yet time for you to go... You have one more task to accomplish as my host" A voice called out to me.

I could barely see or speak but how can I miss such a beautiful face? It was an extremely handsome man who gazed at me with tender eyes.

"Haven't I suffered enough? Can't I just rest?" I cried out. Why would I want to stay back in such a cruel world?

"Don't you want to avenge the death of your parents? Don't you want to become something greater? I can make that happen!" The beautiful man said with an alluring voice.

"You... Who are you?" I asked with an anxious heart.

My parents always said God is the only one who cares about me! Maybe in my final hours, he has come to save me.

"Call me Death..."

Paragon of Death

Facing the formidable presence of the transformed Damon, even Parkinson, with his own fearsome Bold, couldn't help but flinch. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his heart raced in his chest.


Though he assumed a fighting stance, Parkinson's body trembled uncontrollably, as if the frigid cold had seeped into his very bones. What he saw behind Damon was not the imposing black dragon anymore; it was an abyss of darkness. Within that darkness, a pair of blood-red, devilish eyes bore into Parkinson's soul. In that moment, he glimpsed over a thousand ways in which he could be brutally slain in this very exchange, each ending in an unexpected and gruesome demise.


The average fighter would have succumbed to despair in the face of such overwhelming pressure, but Parkinson remained steadfast. With his fists raised, he maintained his composure, though he felt consumed by Damon's dominating presence. He awaited the imminent battle with a resolute calmness.


Chapter 379