amalee monarch

“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.”

He gave the man a hard poke in the chest while smoke wafted from the cigarette between his fingers, then leaned in with bloodlust radiating from every word hissed with his icy voice. “Notice that I haven’t asked your name yet, even though I gave you mine? It’s because you don’t have a name to me. To me, you’re just ‘Bitch’, the sniveling little Bitch who decided to come in here and ruin my evening, talking awfully big game for someone in skull-fucking range. That’s what’ll be engraved on your tombstone: ‘Here lies Bitch. Cause of death: got skull-fucked until his brains leaked out of his ears.’ Shit, I’ll carve the engraving myself. Now I suggest you get the fuck out before I use your eye sockets like a whore’s ass!”

“Something like this.” Noah sealed the chandelier in his ring and conjured a magic tool, looking like a flashlight, but with a rune-engraved diamond instead of a bulb or glass lens. “This is called an ultraviolet light, or a UV light for short. It can be used to illuminate things the human eye can’t see, like fluids at a murder scene, and in this case, it damages Profane flesh and energy.”“You mean like holy light?”