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Summary
Ranboo opened his eyes. There was a man leaning over him, hands pressed to where the wound had been. There was still a lot of blood, and his robes were torn, but the stab wound was gone, not even a scar left behind.
The man’s hands were still glowing faintly. Ranboo looked up into red eyes framed by long pink hair, and he knew at once he was in the presence of a being far more powerful than himself.
Ranboo had never paid homage to anyone before, but he’d seen it done often enough towards himself. He knew the etiquette of showing fealty to higher beings. He forced himself up awkwardly, shoving his knees under himself before pressing his face to the ground.
“Wha—heh?” said the god, for what else could he possibly be? “Nah nah nah, none of that, kid.”
Or
One day, a man came with a sword and a vendetta, and the man with healing hands followed swiftly after, both of them together changing his world for good.
Series
- Part 8 of Apocalyptic Tales
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Bookmark Notes:
8
very very interesting and scratches the itch I've been trying to scratch for weeks now
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I like this.