The future of the Slaughter King Association depends entirely on me?
Looking at the Grand Witch King's own thumbs-up, with a face full of confusion, Raven Masked Man instinctively turned his head to look at the Narration of Nonexistence on his shoulder, wanting to hear how it would explain this.
However, at this moment, the Narration of Nonexistence seemed somewhat irritated, and its pitch-black raven feathers fluttered once more. The vitality, like a wilting ephemeral flower, quickly peeled away from the Grand Witch's body.
The straight spine hunched over again, the smooth skin was once more lined with ravines, and the youthful, charming black-haired girl transformed back into an aged silver-haired old woman in the blink of an eye... only those eyes did not become cloudy again, maintaining the clarity and nimbleness characteristic of the young.
"Bekinsel!"
