bug's life dim

Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, Roc took to the air, flying in loops over the arena. People in the audience shielded their eyes from the sun and pointed at him, trying to keep him in their sights as his speed grew. As he built up his acceleration, he channeled mana into his right leg, and a sheath of energy enveloped eagle talons. “Decisive Divebomb,” he cast, prompting a magic circle to appear around his ankle. Beast Art, the combination of shamanism and monk magic. When he fought Aithorn, he could only use basic mana enhancement on his attacks, but by honing his monk magic by fighting Seraph over and over, his training back in the Ashok Mountains had been fruitful, and he had reached the league of true beastman warriors.

She checked her phone and saw the date. Oh crap. She’d completely lost track of the day of the week with how zoned out she was yesterday. With the stress of getting to school gone, she now was feeling a different concern, mainly that fat load she had drained from her father’s balls last night and how he was standing in front of her. She quickly covered her mouth realising she had yet to wipe the dried drool and cum that was covering her lips and chin. Doing her best to mask the motion as a yawn, she sleepily replied.

“And the rest… is nationalizing the slave trade. The Profane are taking over Handent, which will lead to a shortage of beastman slaves, and demand is already rising at home and abroad. However, there is a steady stream of them arriving in Uther each day.”