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His movements slowed, and his water magic flickered like a candle at the end of its wick. Regardless, he powered through, and after several minutes of relentless combat, he delivered a critical blow, punching Viktor in the chin and sending his brain rattling around in his skull. He staggered back, using what little mental capacity he retained to stay upright, while Falco hobbled over, his strength fading. He and everyone else simply assumed his condition was due to fatigue.

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

He raised his gun and put a round between her eyes, causing Bojena to collapse like a puppet with its strings cut. All of the illusory bullets he hit her with before made her flinch in momentary fear, but this was different. At that moment, she felt death in all of its horror. She felt the darkness, the chill, the metallic taste of the end. This man, she had heard so many rumors about him, and he had defeated her so easily, but now she was left to wonder, was Death itself standing over her?