Well, hope you guys were all have a minor taste on that prologue. Let's just say that I wasn't supposed to get help from Toolbaz about doing my work but after I basically tried to copy and paste it to Toolbaz out of curiosity, once again, Toolbaz has made it much better than what I can hope for and to say that I have been rather thankful to it is pretty much an understatement as I finally found a partner that can make what I write in the most questionable ways possible and thanks to Toolbaz, I finally found the writing that can make it much better.
Well, I hope you guys are all busy with yourself and your works so, let's get right in to it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bloodborne, Highschool DxD and 'Highschool dxd X Op male reader: The Dark warrior of the underworld' by 'JustyTurner'. They belong to their respective owners.
Enjoy.
PS: Seriously, what the hell kind of review was that? All I'm doing is to finally make my idea come true and then somebody just say that I should delete my story? Like, what the hell kind of review was that?
I mean, I get that I am not a perfect author when it comes to writing stories but when you basically just gone out of the blue and just tell me to delete a story that hasn't even started yet, then what's the point of me writing this story anyway?
All I ever wanted was to finally have fun with writing stories and finally put my ideas itself to the fruition of reality and thought it'll be an interesting concept. I even got help for once and then for some reason, I was told to delete the story?
Actually, you know what? You people are probably one of those idiots from Twitter who would basically find anything problematic and just make a drama out of it.
You already gone out of your way to make some stupid drama in Genshin Impact with how much you gone out of your way to be cyber bullying irredeemable evil bastards who just is entitled with their high expectations.
Well, screw you guys. One author I know have already been bullied by calling him the n-word and a furry and one had just gone out of their way to make death threats like the promise of raping and murder.
Well, you should be ashamed of yourself of being irredeemable scums of the Earth that shouldn't exist upon this world.
You all are depraved losers and sick bastards who love to make up words to other people in the internet because you can get away by insulting them.
Well, if that is what you think, I'll do you one better.
Your mom doesn't love you.
Your dad doesn't love you.
You'll friends and family will left you.
And you'll grow up like a piece of filth.
Honestly, do you guys have better things to do then being a bunch of cyber bullies? Cause bullying will always be seen as bad.
It ain't cool.
It ain't fun.
It's just you being the biggest assholes that one shouldn't liked and enjoy. You have already corrupt Twitter with your hate, now you want to spew your hate on ?
Seriously, what happened to finally having the creative freedom to do what you wanted to in the internet and share it with everyone? Is this really all you people are by being absolute scourges of the internet and society itself.
Well, no...
I am willing to make my ideas come to fruition and if you guys have your own ideas, then do it then because seriously, it's better than listen to more of your horrible attitude that you will always be remembered as quite possibly the worst of humanity has to offer.
Now, with that being said, let's get right in to the story...
In the heart of Kuoh Academy, where the air buzzed with youthful energy, the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting playful shadows over the sprawling campus, it was just another day in the classroom.
Students were busily scrawling on their papers, lost in their own worlds, until the bell rang, signaling the end of another tedious session.
The teacher, Mr. Kurata, with his impeccably organized tie and a haircut that screamed 'corporate life', walked around collecting papers, trying to evaluate the management of his classroom while stifling his yawns.
"Alright class... hand me your papers. You're all dismissed for today," Mr. Kurata announced with a hint of desperation in his voice.
As the sound of rustling papers filled the air, a loud snore erupted from the back of the classroom. The teacher's eyes twitched in disbelief as he zeroed in on the source—Ashter Nacht, slumped over his desk, using his arms as makeshift pillows.
"Ashter Nacht!" Mr. Kurata exclaimed, his irritation palpable. "Can I see your papers?"
Another snore filled the air, louder this time. Some students giggled, unsure whether to be concerned or entertained.
"Ashter Nacht?" The teacher tried again, his patience waning.
Suddenly, Asher shot up, eyes half-open, blinking as if he had just emerged from the depths of sleep itself. "Yes?" he deadpanned, his voice monotone and devoid of the charm that usually brightened interactions.
After shaking off his initial shock, Mr. Kurata straightened his jacket and managed to convey his irritation through a glare. "While I have no business with your life, do please refrain from treating this facility as your personal bedroom!"
Ashter shrugged, unfazed. "I've learned a lot in this academy. If this is an indication..." He held up his paper, showing yet another flawless score.
"What? Full marks again?" Mr. Kurata muttered incredulously.
"Yep," Ashter chimed with a grin that was more amusing than expressive. "Can I go now?"
Mr. Kurata's expression morphed from irritation to something resembling resignation. "Fine, just... don't sleep the entire day away," he said, waving Ashter off.
Ashter sauntered out, his mind filled with nothingness—pure, unadulterated nothing, as he yearned for the tranquility offered by the trees outside.
Once outside, Asher plopped himself under a large oak tree and closed his eyes, delighting in the calm atmosphere. But peace was not meant to be. A cacophony of voices invaded his refuge.
"Man, that's hot. I really wish I could look closer at those thighs," Matsuda's voice piped up, followed by Motohama's eager agreement.
Ashter's eyelids fluttered open, annoyance simmering within him as he turned towards the infamous Perverted Trio: Matsuda, Motohama, and the ever-anxious Issei. They were all huddled around a small hole in the wall, their eyes gleaming with mischief.
Ashter growled in disgust. 'Honestly. Can't these three have anything better to do than be degenerates?' With a new goal in mind—to restore some semblance of peace—he approached them.
"Hey, degenerate—" Asher began, but Issei, oblivious as ever, cut in.
"Come on, guys! It's not fair that you're all having fun without me!" He attempted to push forward.
"Watch it!" Motohama barked, his eyes glued to the hole. "You'll mess up our view!"
Just then, the trio accidentally elbowed each other, and Issei lost his balance, stumbling forward and landing right in front of Ashter. Before he could react, Asher had grabbed one of Issei's ears in a firm pinch.
"OWOWOWOWOW?!"
Matsuda and Motohama turned, startled. The cold look etched on Ashter's face was enough to freeze time. "So... remind me again why I shouldn't make you all suffer for interrupting my sleep?" he said, his detached voice chilling them to the bone.
Motohama stammered, "B-because... uhm... there's a... a dog coming?"
Ashter raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. "Nice try. If you're trying to divert my attention, it's not going to work."
Matsuda's voice trembled. "W-we were just—"
"Perverts?" Asher quipped, his smirk growing. The weight of his words hung over the trio like a storm cloud.
Issei, desperate to escape, clutched at Asher's wrist. "You don't understand! Life is hard for us! How can we—"
Before he could plead his case, Asher delivered a swift yank on his ear, causing him to squeal like a confused pig. "You're the ones making life hard for yourselves! Get it together!"
And with that, the only thing that the Perverted Trio can do is to scream in pain as Ashter had finally mopped the floor with the Perverted Trio and their sorry selves, delivering mock punches as he couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction as they lay in a heap of agony, nursing bruised egos and bodies.
It was as if he had single-handedly vanquished a trio of wannabe knights whose only quest was an ill-fated pursuit of skirts and cleavage.
In the changing room, the aftermath echoed with grateful whispers. Murayama and Katase stood before him, their eyes sparkling with admiration. "Thank you for stopping those perverts, Ashter-san," said Murayama, bowing deeply as the fluorescent lights flickered ominously above them.
"We wouldn't have been able to handle them without you!" Katase chimed in, also bowing to show her appreciation, turning her long hair into a curtain that framed her bashful expression.
Ashter rubbed the back of his neck nonchalantly. "Don't mention it... Really." With an exaggerated sigh, he started to make his exit, ready to escape the chaos he increasingly associated with this school like a bad sequel to a horror film.
"Oh, don't be so modest—" Murayama began earnestly. But Ashter cut her off, his expression shifting from mild indifference to a serious glare.
"I mean it. Don't mention it, ever. I only helped because they interrupted my sleep. You girls should probably get that hole in the locker room fixed. If not, I'm not wasting time with your problems anymore. Goodbye." His voice was heavy with gruff finality, and he walked out, leaving the girls in stunned silence.
"Wow..." Murayama frowned, crossing her arms defensively. "How rude."
"Yeah..." Katase shook her head. "We thanked him for everything, and this is how he reacts? How ungrateful."
But before they could further dissect his social apathy, a voice chimed in. "I hope Ashter-san would say mean things to me too…" One of the other girls dreamily sighed, her eyes fluttering as if she had just experienced the perfect rom-com moment, much to the shock and bafflement of Murayama and Katase.
Meanwhile, Ashter walked down the corridors, feeling the weight of his decision to ignore the nonsense of Kuoh Academy. All he wanted was to escape from yet another day of ridiculous antics. Ashter, a seemingly average high school student—or at least, one who blended in well among the chaos—had grown weary of his unintended heroism in ceaseless battles of wits and fists.
He stumbled upon an abandoned building on campus, a looming structure that was shrouded in mystery and lore. The gnarled branches of ancient trees wrapped around it like the affectionate fingers of a long-lost lover. Ashter stared at the dilapidated walls, running a hand through his unruly hair. It marked the edge of what he would consider his comfort zone, but today was different.
"All I want is some peace…" he grumbled to himself, but suddenly, the world around him shifted. In an instant, the air crackled, and with a flicker, Ashter vanished from his spot, leaving nothing but a faint whisper of his presence.
Inside the building, a red-haired girl stood at the window, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. She had felt something shift in the air, a presence unlike any other, and wondered what had just transpired.
"Was that… a student?" she pondered aloud, looking out into the distance as if trying to decipher an enigma that her senses could barely grasp. She shook her head, shifting back to her incomplete homework before the answers slipped away like butterflies in the warm sun.
Meanwhile, in a place that lies outside the boundaries of the world, Ashter looked upon his surroundings as he witnessed the calm and serene setting that is the Hunter's Workshop. The air here was imbued with an eerie yet comforting silence, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves and the delicate whispers of fate itself. As he wandered through beautiful gardens teeming with unusual flora and mysterious critters, he found himself momentarily distracted by a small gathering of Messengers whispering conspiratorial secrets to each other.
"Greetings, Good Hunter. And welcome once again..."
Ashter turned to see a very pale woman, her long white hair cascading over her Victorian dress like a flowing river of snow. The Doll stood before him, a serene smile plastered on her delicate face.
"Greetings to you too, Doll. Are the Messengers having any trouble?" he replied cheerfully, feeling a warmth radiating through him despite the chilly atmosphere.
"The Little Ones are all eager to serve you, Good Hunter. They dearly missed you so much that they want to know if there is anything that they can help you with," the Doll responded, her eyes sparkling with a haunting light.
Ashter chuckled, mirthlessly. "Just tell them they will help me when I actually face any problems. With that being said..." He stretched out his arms, inviting the weight of fatigue to envelop him. "May I please see that you could take care of me as I slumber along?"
"As you wish, Good Hunter," Doll stated, bowing gracefully. She led him to the expansive garden, where a singular ornate chair sat regally on a patch of perfectly manicured grass. The towering flowers leaned as though they were listening in, curious about the narratives spun in the evening air. Ashter sank into the chair, allowing relaxation to wash over him. The Doll stood beside him as an unwavering sentinel, ready to guard his dreams.
Ashter Nacht had earned this rest after jugging the dual lives of being a student at Kuoh Academy by day and a Hunter of the supernatural by night. Absurdity had become his new normal.
"Sarcastic taunts," he muttered to himself, reflecting on the absurdity of his existence. Ashter sighed at the complexities of his life—a foreigner drawn to the city of Yharnam seeking a blood ministration for a grievous ailment, only to awaken from a month-long coma to find himself a Hunter facing relentless horrors and allying with equally strange companions.
As he drifted into a tranquil slumber, his mind processed the thoughts of ages past: a time when Yharnam was not marred by the bloodlust and madness of eldritch beings. He recalled how he unwittingly consumed the Three Umbilical Cords—a decision that, after his eldritch transformation, had his reality bent in ways he scarcely remembered. Did he want to become a Great One? Did he genuinely think he could wield the power of those ancient beings without losing a piece of his sanity?
Mostly, he yearned for peace.
"Good Hunter?"
Ashter cracked open an eye, blinking sleep away and turning towards the Doll. The familiar sight of her pale visage grounded him momentarily.
"Might I ask your permission in asking my question?" she said, her head tilted quizzically.
Ashter nodded, intrigued. "As you wish. What do you want to know?"
The Doll took a breath, visibly preparing herself for what she was about to inquire. "Why do you persist in being a Hunter? Is it the thrill of the hunt that drives you, or something deeper?"
Chuckling, Ashter began to recount the ridiculous experiences he had faced since donning the Hunter's mantle. "Well, imagine waking up one day as a secret monster slayer! And then there's school! You ever try doing calculus at the same time you're chasing down an eldritch horror?"
The Doll blinked, tilting her head with childlike curiosity. "Cal-cu-lus?"
"It's a form of math that even horror could fund its nightmares into," he explained with a grin. "But I think it's the thrill that attracts me—the opportunity to dive headfirst into unknown chaos while everyone else thinks it's just an ordinary day. I'm a Hunter by night, but come morning, I'm just Ashter Nacht, a somewhat reluctant high school student trying to figure out my homework."
The Doll couldn't help but giggle, a sound like tinkling glass that echoed through the garden. "That does sound amusing! Perhaps you could take your extra-lethal extracurriculars and share tales with your classmates?"
"Ah yes, 'This one time, I split a beast in half with a trick weapon while balancing my biology notes!'" Ashter feigned an exaggerated classroom voice ahead of a pointed look. "Real popular stuff, Doll. I'd be scavenging for a seat in the back right alongside the other social outcasts!"
Yet, he paused, realizing how much he had grown fond of both lives—the grotesque hunting and the mundane high school affairs. "In fairness though, while hunting beasts, you'd be amazed at how many life lessons pop up. They are quite... educational."
"What kind of lessons?" The Doll pressed, growing ever more intrigued.
"Never trust your instincts about an ally at face value. They might have more than just a bit of blood on their hands." Ashter laughed, leaning back in his chair again, "Also, when fighting a giant monstrous pig that swallows men whole, aim for the snout and not your friend's leg for a change."
The Doll giggled mischievously, echoing with unrestrained delight. "Oh, that does sound like a most miraculous endeavor for classroom storytelling! If only more students knew about the wild truths of the world you experience!"
"Well, one can't teach eldritch truths with textbooks alone," Ashter quipped. "Ever tried explaining the transformation into a Great One during a science fair? That's a guaranteed ticket to detention!"
"I believe you would make a fabulous history teacher with such riveting tales!" she exclaimed, and for a brief moment, Ashter saw the world outside transform, a wistful charm in her eyes as if she longed to share in more than just the suffering of mortality, but the absurdity of existence itself.
As Ashter settled back into a gentle state of repose, he realized that whether in a grand library fighting grotesque creatures or a mundane classroom filled with half-baked questions, it was the journey—the absurdity, thrill, and laughter—that kept his spirit alive.
"Tomorrow is just another hunt, after all," he murmured with a smile, hovering on the border of dreams and waking life once more. "How absurdly wonderful that is."
On this particular day at Kuoh Academy, though, there was a glimmer of something distinct—an awakening, a rare happiness stirring from within, masked by a demeanor that seemed disinterested in the world around him.
As he navigated the familiar corridors of the school, something caught his attention: a commotion by the stairs. Peering around the corner, he spotted the infamous Perverted Trio—Issei Hyoudou, Matsuda, and Motohama—animated in what appeared to be a heated discussion. The trio's outlandish antics were usually an expected backdrop to his monotonous school days, but today, something was amiss in Issei's tone and the way he gestured emphatically.
"Come on; you guys don't remember me introducing Yuuma to you?" Issei insisted, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
Matsuda shook his head, plainly confused, while Motohama shrugged, delivering a classic line: "Sorry, dude. Would have remembered if you did get a girl."
"That's what I'm saying! I did meet her, and now… wait, what?" Issei's confusion deepened as he scrolled through his phone, his eyes wide with disbelief. "It's just… gone!"
"Look, you probably dreamed her," Motohama suggested lightly.
"Yeah, I've had dreams too, man. Just give it some time—" Matsuda chimed in before sighing theatrically, "I do really miss her, though."
The exchange continued, but Ashter found himself unable to tune them out as Issei's earnest bewilderment rippled through the air. Something in the way the air felt had shifted; Issei felt different. Ashter, with a keen perception honed by years of living as both observer and participant in this world of magic and demons, sensed a lingering essence around Issei—a subtle, yet undeniable, aura reminiscent of devils.
'Could it be that he has become another victim of a supernatural occurrence?' Ashter mused, a shadow of intrigue slipping into his thoughts. As he pondered the implications, his gaze followed the crestfallen figure of Issei shuffling away from the stairs, shoulders slumped in a way that clung to disappointment. Ashter made his decision.
"I have to find out about this," he muttered to himself, clasping his arms against his chest. He was already late for class, but the mystery seemed more pressing than any lecture on curriculum.
As Ashter trailed after Issei, the hallways of Kuoh Academy morphed into shadows and whispers. Students passed with laughter and gossip, blissfully unaware of the tension brewing under the surface. Issei veered away from the main path, heading towards a secluded part of the campus known for its overgrown trees—always shrouded in a comforting kind of obscurity.
With practiced stealth, Ashter shadowed him, the air thick with the rustling of leaves and distant voices. Catching up to Issei, he found him brooding against a tree, muttering to himself.
"Come on… it has to be real, right? I mean, the kiss… the phone number…" Issei ranted, rubbing his temples in an attempt to raise clarity from the fog of his confusion.
His vulnerability was apparent; a side of him rarely displayed to anyone, let alone a classmate like Ashter. Gathering his resolve, Ashter stepped forward, causing Issei to jump.
"Did you… need something?" Issei stammered, trying for a casual tone despite the anxiety flickering in his eyes.
"You're not dreaming, Issei," Ashter said, voice smooth but firm. "You met someone. Someone significant."
Issei eyed Ashter with surprise; he had never paid much attention to the seemingly disinterested boy who lurked in the shadows of social interactions. "You believe me?" he asked, hope igniting momentarily within him.
"Believe doesn't matter," Ashter replied, his tone shifting from detached to serious. "We need to understand this. Different essences sometimes signal bounds beyond understanding. Perhaps you're caught in something far deeper than your usual encounters."
As Ashter spoke, a wisp of dark energy coiled from Issei, flickering like candlelight. It was faint, but undeniable to Ashter's trained senses. "What's happening to you?" he pressed, voice now laden with urgency.
The air crackled with tension, heavy with an eerie silence that enveloped the abandoned street where Issei and Ashter stood. The world around them was unrecognizable, draped in shadows that danced ominously above. Issei's heart raced, pounding against his chest like a drum heralding disaster. His wide eyes darted between Ashter and the swirling darkness as panic surged through him.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about... I..." he stammered, desperation clear in his voice.
Ashter remained stoic, his gaze locked onto the darkening sky. Suddenly, a voice cut through the silence, cold as ice. "Well, well. Looks like you're still alive."
Emerging from the gloom was a figure clad in a sharp suit and fedora, marked by a pair of ominous black wings protruding from his back. He had an air of arrogance that turned Issei's instincts on high alert. The man regarded Issei with a mocking smile, as if the boy's fear was an old joke.
"Guess Raynare didn't do a very good job at killing you. Oh well..." One hand flicked out, conjuring a spear of blinding light that pulsated with lethal intent. "I guess I'll finish this job myself."
Issei's breath hitched, dread washing over him. But before he could utter a word, Ashter stepped forward, placing himself directly in front of Issei. The unexpected gesture astonished Issei, who would have never guessed that Ashter—a young student of Kuoh Academy that is shrouded in mystery—would stick his neck out for him.
"You will do nothing of the sort, fallen angel," Ashter declared, his voice deep and steady. "Return to whatever darkness you have crawled from and never return, because if you don't..."
He paused, his glare sharpening like a blade, "You will regret it."
The fallen angel chuckled darkly, unimpressed. "How cute. Tell you what, human? Why don't you scurry off somewhere else and let me kill the brat? I'll forget I saw you. Sounds nice?" He sneered, his eyes glinting with malice.
But Ashter stood resolute. The atmosphere shifted, charged with an impending conflict. From his jacket, Ashter produced a gleaming revolver, cold metal glinting ominously under what little light remained. With a swift, practiced motion, he raised it and pulled the trigger, the gunshot shattering the air with a deafening roar.
The fallen angel reeled back, a hand instinctively flying to his head where crimson began to trickle down his face, mingling with the creeping shadows. Ashter stepped forward, undeterred by his opponent's evident fury.
"You know what? Forget the brat. I'll kill you first!" the fallen angel roared, flinging another light spear with furious intensity.
"You can try," Ashter replied, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. In a blur, he dodged the projectile, his movements impossibly swift. He began to shoot again, unleashing a hail of bullets that sparked against the fallen angel's wings, prompting him to spiral back in surprise.
Issei watched, both terrified and entranced. The two figures danced amid the air—one of light, the other of shadows—an explosive clash of wills igniting the night. Ashter, with a resilience that seemed to defy the very nature of man, pressed forward, his shots precise and unyielding. Each bullet whizzed past the fallen angel, creating a cacophony of thunderous booms.
"I won't let you touch him!" Ashter shouted, determination steeling his expression as he reloaded with a practiced ease.
"Fool!" the fallen angel spat, his eyes glinting with fury. He charged, dark energy swirling around him as he launched into a dive, hoping to crush his adversary.
But Ashter didn't falter. Channeling every ounce of his resolve, he fired again, this time aiming for the junction of the angel's wings. A well-aimed shot struck true, and the fallen angel screamed, losing altitude and momentum.
"Now, it's my turn," Ashter announced, advancing swiftly. The fallen angel, in a desperate bid, extended his arm, attempting one last attack, desperation evident in his features.
He conjured a massive sphere of light that threatened to erupt in chaos, but Ashter was faster. In one smooth motion, he arced his revolver upward and fired—an explosive thunderclap resonated in the air, striking the sphere with immense force, obliterating it in a radiant burst of light.
Issei shielded his eyes, feeling the shockwave tear through the air. When he dared to look, he saw Ashter standing tall and defiant amid the lingering dust and echoes of the battle. The fallen angel, battered and broken, collapsed to the ground, defeated as he lay on the ground, struggling to rise as pain coursed through his body, the remnants of Ashter's last attack still crackling in the air like remnants of thunder.
"H-how... How did you do that?" the fallen angel gasped, his defiance faltering under Ashter's unwavering glare.
Ashter slid his revolver back into the folds of his jacket, his posture relaxed yet menacing. "Let's just say that I have transcended what I once was as a human," he replied, a cryptic smile playing on his lips.
"So, what? Are you a Devil?" the fallen angel sneered, attempting to mask his fear with bravado.
Ashter shook his head, his smile fading. "Devil? No, no..." He relished the moment, the tension in the air. "I am… complicated." With a flourish, he summoned the sword once more, raising it high as it caught the ambient light, reflecting it off its polished surface with an ethereal glow. "Shall I end your misery as another prey to my hunt?"
The fallen angel, desperation clawing at his resolve, lifted an arm to conjure a flicker of light magic. But before he could channel it, Ashter's sword sliced through the air, severing the angel's limb with a swift, brutal efficiency. A scream echoed in the park, a wretched cry that resonated with Issei Hyoudou, who stood frozen, horror painted across his features.
As Ashter poised to deliver his final blow, Issei instinctively looked away, bracing himself for a gruesome spectacle. But then, in a moment that felt suspended in time, a commanding voice pierced the atmosphere.
"That's enough, now."
Both Ashter and Issei turned as a brilliant red magic circle flared to life. From its core emerged Rias Gremory, an ethereal figure draped in grace and authority, her crimson hair glimmering under the remnants of twilight. Issei's heart raced in disbelief—Rias, the epitome of beauty at Kuoh Academy, was standing in front of them with an expression that commanded respect.
"That is enough bloodshed for today," she asserted, her tone a mix of compassion and menace. "Spare the fallen angel, or else there will be dire consequences."
Ashter's expression remained stoic, a hardened glare fixated on Rias. With a scoff, he reluctantly slid his sword back into its sheath. "You're lucky that she spares your miserable insignificant life, worm," he taunted at the fallen angel, who lay trembling on the ground.
The fallen angel finally managed to rise to his feet, albeit with great difficulty. Glaring back, he spat, "That's Dohnaseek to you. And this isn't over." With a broken wing and a severed arm, he took to the skies, laboring against the torment of his injuries as he fled into the darkening night.
As silence enveloped the shrine after Dohnaseek's departure, Ashter found himself with Rias and Issei. Issei, still reeling from the events, turned to Rias, confusion clouding his features. "W-what… What is going on?"
Before Rias could find her words, Ashter interjected, "Let's just say that it is beyond complicated. Don't worry. You'll get used to it." His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed a depth of experiences that currently felt insurmountable.
Well, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Or not if a certain 'you-know-who'/cyber bully would have something to say for how utterly repugnant they have to say for themselves.
Well, anyway...
Ciao...
Bye...