"GAHHHHH~"
Almy sat up in his bedroom, he stretched as he got out of bed and turned off the alarm clock.
He rubbed his eyes and sat blankly for a long time on the bed, staring vacantly at the corner of the room into the void.
After about 4 or 5 minutes he finally yawned repeatedly and stood up, scratched his head then stumbled into the bathroom. His footsteps were slow and full of a pitiful appearance.
After 10 minutes of washing and brushing his teeth, he finally dragged his corpse out of the bathroom and went to get the glasses he left on the shelf.
Almy yawned repeatedly, he was a journalist, but had long since quit his job, currently he was a writer, simply put he was unemployed, taking writing as entertainment.
He looked into the dressing mirror in the middle of the room, this was a mystical artifact that he had collected not long ago, as his own trophy.
He looked into the mirror, from it reflected a weary, resigned, harsh image of himself.
Mocking himself with a smile, he sat on the wooden chair, skillfully brewing coffee on the machine, then sat reading the newspaper to kill time. Time passed slowly and steadily, like a leaf falling gently from a tree trunk to the ground.
Almy picked up an apple from the ground, admired it then regardless of whether it was dirty or not, he took a bite.
After finishing he immediately took a sip of coffee, holding the newspaper to read in his spare time, waiting until his eyes were exhausted before putting it down.
Almy approached the typewriter, he sighed then looked at the papers he had written, a total of 12 chapters, and he was intending to do the 13th chapter.
But what should be set as the title?
Almy did not agree with what he was thinking, so an idea popped up.
He looked into the mirror, trying to find the answer from deep within.
"Why are you looking at me? There is no answer".
A ghost appeared from the mirror, that entity sat on an old wheelchair that had long faded to silver and was full of dust.
That entity carried a face hidden in the darkness, one half wrapped in white bandages, the other half burned to a horrific extent like a demon.
"You know what I have been, am, and will be writing, what is the harm in helping a bit?"
Almy spoke, only to receive a strange silence, he sighed then looked toward the pure white paper on the typewriter.
"What should I do now? Or analyze Ron's plan? No, this is still too early.
Or about what he wrote in the notebook?
Not very good, right?"
Almy was blank then looked toward the mirror.
"Should I ask him?"
Almy shook his head, he knew that asking both of those people would not be of much use, it would be better to ask someone who has experienced it, meaning someone else.
So he contacted that person, the one he called the reader.
He would try to ask carefully about that lazy demon.
So he approached the corner of the room, picked up the axe placed neatly on the shelf and held it to his neck.
He hoped that this would not hurt that much.
But was there anything more painful than that time?
The War of the Three Emperors was ten thousand times more horrific and strange than this.
But at least they were madmen, as he once said.
So he gradually thought that even if he was not crazy, what if there was a way to make himself not hurt?
He would of course hope for a perfect body or a spiritual reincarnation, but most ways do not.
Almy hoped that in at least 25 types of mana there must be something useful for this besides turning himself into a continuous testing machine…
So he picked up the pen, he had thought of the next sentence for the chapter.
"This is the story of chapter 13…"
This is the story of the proudest demon in the world, the one who betrayed the person they were most loyal to.
This is the story part of the sin of sloth and greed.