Miracle day Œ 
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A man stares out his window,

In front of him is his empire.

Miles upon miles of spirt trees have been planted and are already bearing fruit.

It's where the lower class live.

They work to harvest the trees, this empire's main export as well as other manual labor.

The spirt trees are used in almost anything mainly because they're very good at conducting magic.

They're used in almost all wands and staffs, they're also used in magic tools and devices as magic circuits or shells.

They can even be used as feed for magic beings. 

There are of course better materials for magic but they're far too expensive for anything other than personal use.  

Behind the forest are the towns where the middle class live.

The middle class is in charge of processing the spirit trees.

They don't use factories so they have to use magic tools to refine every single shipment they get.

There is so much to process that once someone from the middle class comes of age they get a job.

But unlike the lower class, they can have other useful trades like blacksmithing, shop owning, carpentering, etc 

Behind them living in the castles are the upper class.

They take the jobs of lords, researchers, and wizards.

They own the lands and the towns on.

Some of them take administrative positions, while some take research positions to try and make things as efficiently as possible and create new breakthroughs.

Every single person in his empire has their place chosen since the moment they are born.

By what kind of horn they have.

If they have a nuby horn they are sorted into the lower class.

If they have a sharp horn they are sorted into the middle class.

If they have a longhorn they are sorted into the upper class.

All of this comes together to create a well-oiled machi- I mean empire.

And all of it belongs to him.

Ivasaar Heilee the king of the elves and the president of Elfunim (Eco-friendly) corporation.

Also known as the one and only rainbow horn Elf.

There used to be five but they all died in unforeseen accidents.

Leaving only him to rule the elves.

 Ivasaar leans into his detractive wood Throne.

The throne costs as much as a castle it's made of Ebony and decorated in jewels.

Of course, the king of the elves doesn't live in a castle!

Everyone knows that's absurd!

The king gets live in the world tree!

So of course, our king...........lives in a tree stump that used to be the world tree....

It's still massive and a lot bigger than any castle nearby (by law) but if this man had a choice he would live somewhere else.

But there are certain expectations elves are held up to, and as the king, he has to be an example.....whether he likes it or not...

Other than that everything goes his way.

He is the one and only rainbow horn.

Ivasaar reflexively fixes his posture, only to lean back again.

......things learned at a young age can't be forgotten so easily... 

A servant puts another peeled grape into his mouth their hand slowly brushing the king face.

Another servant finishes cutting his nails.

They gently kiss his hand before getting up.  

Another servant hands him a nice brown rum aged to perfection.

The servant makes sure to bow down so the king can get a peek of their chest.

Just as he's about to take the first sip.

Creeeeek.

The door behind him opens.

A long-horned elf in a business suit enters.

All of the servants turn towards her.

She stops in her tracks.

Out of everyone in this room she really sticks out.

Not for being a Longhorn there are many of those here.

It's because she's the only female in this room.

In fact, she's the only female in this stump.

"Greetings your majesty, your humble aid Loran has come to report to you"(Loran)

She makes sure to say her name since the king never bothers to remember it.

The king sighs and sips his rum.

Loran just stands there awkwardly she's used to that by now.

What she's not used to is the stares from the servants.

Each one of them had very tight clothing regardless of their body type which went from small and petite to big and muscular to anything in between.

But most of all what caused her to look away was their eyes.

Some had normal eyes as if this situation did not affect them.

Some had disinterested eyes like they were trying to run away from reality.

While some had eyes filled with lust and craving.

But the ones that really turned her stomach where the broken ones.

They just sort of stand there and wait for orders, like dolls.......the one thing they have in common is that they're the only sharp horns.

Taken from their homes for their beauty...

"Report"(Ivasaar)

Loran snaps up from her daze!

She can't fuck this up!! the only reason she can even be here is because she has yet to fuck up!

She can't let him give her job away for some hot guy who's not even qualified she worked so hard for this!!

She rearranges everything in her head.

The king is drinking rum right now which means he's in a bad mood.

So she'll give him the good news first then the bad news and then a bit of good news!

Loran clears her throat and forces a smile.

"Well first off! congratulations sire! your 12th wife has successfully given birth!"(Loran)

"............."(Ivasaar)

"...........to a healthy baby boy!"(Loran)

"mmm"(Ivasaar)

Loran sighs to herself.

It's no secret that the king prefers males over females.

He hasn't even met any of his wives! 

All of them were artificially inseminated.

The only reason the king even bothers is that he wants his own blood to run the country.

Even now slowly his children are replacing people in power.

All of them are long horns of course.

Having a longhorn give birth to a rainbow horn is almost impossible.

But that doesn't stop people from having hope that they might get a new king eventually.

And the woman who will give birth to them will become the queen.

Loran thinks back to the king's 6th wife, Loran's cousin.

If she can give birth to rainbow horn her family would be set for life.

Loran shakes her head, there's a lot more stuff to report on.  

"Sire the expansion was a success, we have increased our productivity by 7% if we keep planting more spirit trees we can up that to 10% by the end of the year!"(Loran)

"mmhm"(Ivasaar)

"Next, the exports are at an all-time high! it seems every country and company needs more spirit trees! the stocks for Elfunim (Eco-friendly) corporation are skyrocketing!!"(Loran)

"do you have to say the Eco-friendly part every time"(Ivasaar)

"......it's for branding sire....for some reason people just love the idea of elves being nature loving-"(Loran)

Ivasaar cuts her off.

"I think I know that better than anyone, just tell me the bad news already"(Ivasaar)

Loran gulps and then makes a little prayer to the now dead world tree.

She tries to push the words out of her now dry mouth.

"......um.......The Koliand stronghold has fallen...out of the 1,900 people there......only 23 survived....the rest were....killed by Warmaster Tron"(Loran)

Loran pushed the words out of her mouth as hard as she could.

Her hand were griped into fists as she imagined what those people had to go through.

Warmaster Tron was known for making people suffer before they died.

He would rip them apart and make sick works that he disgustingly called art.

Her legs were shaking and her stomach threatened to turn.

She took a deep breath and looked at the back of the throne.

She couldn't see the king but she could see the servants.

Some of them wore faces of worry and despair while some looked completely uninterested.

The king's next question throw her off.

"And then what happened"(Ivasaar)

Loran pauses for a second not even believing the answer that's coming out of her mouth.

"........he.....he left.....he just left...he didn't even take anything....he destroyed a fortress known to be inalterable.....and then he left!! he didn't even take anything!! no one knows why he even did it!! I mean no one knows why he does anything!! sometimes he helps people and sometimes he kills them!! it's like he chooses what to do based on a coin toss!!"(Loran)

"or a dice throw"(Ivasaar)

"what??....ah....I guess...you could say that too???????????"(Loran)

Loran couldn't help but retort.

That was so weirdly specific! it caught her off guard.

The servants are sending her looks now.

Loran starts to sweat, she hopes with all her heart that the king was not offended by that!!

"I assume they're gone now"(Ivasaar)

Loran sighs in her head, she fine...for now.

"Yes, he's gone, he moved out fast....a little too fast if you ask me."(Loran)

"ok, you can leave now"(Ivasaar)

Loran gets a bit surprised.

She saved a bit of good news for the end, just to make sure this doesn't end on a sour note.

"um sire there is one more thing!"(Loran)

"I assume it's about the Wizard Koalahan and that boy....what was it...Ban?"(Ivasaar)

"Ben sire, we think we might know where they are right now! if we-"(Loran)

"no matter"(Ivasaar)

"what?"(Loran)

"we have more important things to take care off"(Ivasaar)

"But sire! no one can leave without your permission! they broke the law! they-"(Loran)

"That's enough, leave"(Ivasaar)

Ivasaar turned back to look at her.

Loran froze twice.

First at the king's absolute beauty.

And second, when his horn started to glow.

His horn was flashing all colors of the rainbow.

Loran almost mechanically turned around and walked out of the door. 

The reason why Ivasaar was able to do whatever he wanted no matter how extreme.

Why he was never questioned or doubted.

Why he was never opposed or rebelled against.

Was because the elves used to be a hivemind.

The only thing left of that after thousands of years of evolution is the rainbow horns.

They are able to control any non-rainbow horned elf.

The control is so absolute they can even order them to kill their loved ones or even themselves.

This power is so massive that the rainbow horns work to keep each other in check.

But as you have been informed Ivasaar Heilee is the only rainbow horn is the world.

It's because of that, he was able to reinstate the old caste system that was overthrown years ago when the world tree was burned down.

It's because of that, he was able to turn his empire into a corporation even without factories.

It's because of that, he can take his pick of any elf he fancied even if they loved someone else.

It's because of that, he was the elf king.

Ivasaar takes his time to finish his drink.

Someone is waiting for him, but he'd rather delay that as much as possible.

Finally, the glass is empty.

Ivasaar looks at his empire on last time.

Then at his beautiful servants who have to do anything for him.

And then finally at a replica of the world tree made of copper and crystal.

Slowly he stands up.

His lose robes threating to fall, not that he'd care though, everyone in this room had memorized his body.

With even slower steps he makes his way to a red door, his study.


Ivasaar enters the room while closing the door behind him.

He tries his best to ignore the person sitting in front of them.

He hates being the one to talk first.

He's always the first one to talk.

Instead, he focuses on the room its self.

The red wallpaper.

The black furniture. 

it's been so long he barely remembers it.

Though one look around starts to bring back memories.

...........there are a lot more toys and nick nacks than he remembers...

He sits down and studies the person sitting in front of him

He's wearing the same dame tacky red suit as always, and that black veil covering his face.

Even with the veil, you could somehow always tell what kind of expression he has.

Mockery, he was mocking him.

Ivasaar hands grip the armrests and his teeth grinding.

He became the elf king through his hard work!

Yes, he got help! but he didn't need it!

He could have easily done it himself!

Hatred and anger started to fill his body.

But he didn't show it.

He was better than that.

He is a king.

They continued to stare at each other.

Well one of them was glaring, but that's not important.

Ivasaar still not wanting to back down decided to focus on the room instead.

Most of the things in the room were books and toys.

The books were all educational and in a variety of languages, some weren't even used anymore.

The toys were rewards.

Each time Ivasaar would successfully do something he would get a toy.

A toy soldier for learning math.

A wooden sword for learning proper grammar.

A music box for learning etiquette.

A wooden camel for memorizing 25 laws.

A chess board for learning war strategies. 

A large puppet for mastering life magic.

A small puppet for mastering the sword.

An animal puppet for winning his first match.

............He gave him a lot of puppets for some reason.....

Against his own will, Ivasaar mood slowly goes up as the memories flood in.

And then,

His eyes stop on a teddy bear.

And all the resentment and hatred flood back into him.

It gets to the point where he doesn't even hide his animosity anymore.

Fuck his pride, he just wants to get this over with.

"......good afternoon"(Ivasaar)

"good afternoon, it's nice to see you still have some manners left, I was afraid you throw them all away with your dignity"(Miracle Man)

"What I do in my time is my business"(Ivasaar)

"I just don't understand why you would want to........aham...engage in such disgusting activities"(Miracle Man)

"Just say have se-"(Ivasaar)

"Aham.....your absolute rudeness aside, do you know why I'm here"(Miracle Man)

Ivasaar's eyebrows smash together.

He had a couple of ideas why.

Miracle Man has always been giving him orders since he came to power.

Paying his debts as he says.

In fact, bringing back the class system was his idea, not that Ivasaar was opposed to it.

"Look, at this point, I pretty confident in saying I paid off my debt, plus what the hell could you possibly want now! I overturned this country for you I can't do anything more!"(Ivasaar)

"is that what you think...."(Miracle Man)

"what?"(Ivasaar)

"never mind, I shouldn't have expected anything, even from one of my protégés......listen he̵r̴e̴'̴s̴ ̷w̵h̸a̷t̴ ̷I̷ ̸w̴a̴n̶t̴ ̴y̷o̴u̴ ̸t̵o̸ ̶d̷o̶"̸(̵M̵i̷r̷a̵c̸l̴e̶ ̶M̴a̴n̴)̶

T̵h̷e̷ ̴a̴i̶r̷ ̸s̷t̷a̶r̸t̴e̴d̷ ̷t̶o̸ ̵c̴h̸i̷l̸l̷ ̸l̵i̵k̵e̵ ̶r̷o̴o̷m̶ ̴i̴t̷s̸ ̶s̷e̸l̶f̶ ̴s̵e̴e̴m̸e̶d̵ ̵t̶o̶ ̵w̴a̸s̴ ̷a̷n̴t̸i̴c̶i̸p̵a̴t̶i̷n̵g̶ ̷h̷i̶s̵ ̵d̷e̶m̵a̷n̸d̶ ̸ ̶.

"̶I̴ ̸w̷a̵n̷t̷ ̶y̴o̸u̴ ̸t̶o̷ ̶t̶a̷k̶e̶ ̷c̶o̸n̸t̷r̷o̵l̸ ̷o̸f̵ ̷ş̷̱̙͗d̵̢̙̠̙̏̈́f̵̎͒͆̓͜s̵̨̧̥̘͘d̸̜̗͚́͑ḟ̵͙̀͑͝s̵̙͇̆͝ḑ̸̦̟̺̇̈̂f̶̖̩̹̞́̚d̶̝̈́͘͝s̸͚̲͎̎̓͐͊ͅg̶̦̲̔̿d̶͔̾̂s̴̳͑̑g̵̻̜̖̈́͐͘͝s̴͙̘̓̐̔͝ǧ̷̼̆s̵̛̺̤̅g̴̭̱̰̪͌d̸͔̱̃s̷̺̓g̴͓̣͆͗ş̷̱̙͗d̵̢̙̠̙̏̈́f̵̎͒͆̓͜s̵̨̧̥̘͘d̸̜̗͚́͑ḟ̵͙̀͑͝s̵̙͇̆͝ḑ̸̦̟̺̇̈̂f̶̖̩̹̞́̚d̶̝̈́͘͝s̸͚̲͎̎̓͐͊ͅg̶̦̲̔̿d̶͔̾̂s̴̳͑̑g̵̻̜̖̈́͐͘͝s̴͙̘̓̐̔͝ǧ̷̼̆s̵̛̺̤̅g̴̭̱̰̪͌d̸͔̱̃s̷̺̓g̴͓̣͆͗"(̵͙̦̲̂m̵̨͉̪͘į̷̨̡̞͆͋͛ȓ̷̨͓͓ä̸̝̬̀̄̋c̷̱̤͜͠l̵̟̺̓̔̿͒ȩ̴̞͂̑̕͝ ̶̨̆͛̎m̵̳̜̊͑̔͘ą̶̘̳͑̂͗n̸̈́̍̀͝ͅ)̸̧̯͙̓͗͒

"̶̧̪͙͕̍̆̔y̶̡̜̦̝̾o̶̦͚͐̇͋́ũ̶͔̮͕̮͒ ̴͚̭̯͈̒͌̐̒c̵̫̱͂̈͑͝ͅa̸̫̰̓ṇ̷͍̽͑̃ ̸̫̲̒͂́͝ň̴̹̱̗͐̓̃ò̴͉̟ṭ̷̱̼͔̓͗̏̄ ̸̟̩͐b̶̮͍̏͂͐̈́é̷̮̘͉͈̓̏͂ ̸͇̔ṡ̵̮e̷͖̼̙͛̇̿͆r̶̦͕̉̍̀͝ỉ̶͉o̴͕̽̀͝ͅû̴͙̘̦̻̓s̶̡̹̯̑̉!̸̢̰́̑̉̿ ̸͓̻̽I̷̳̫͝ ̴̝̦̱̐͌̆a̴̫̍̎̓͝m̵̲͒͆̀̾ ̷̖̀̈̓̒n̸͔͑̈́̕o̶͕̔́ť̶̻͖̖̯̒͋̌ ̶̠͚̮̘̾g̵̦̗͂o̵̢̻͍̤̊͒̉͌i̶̻͇͓͋͊n̵̢̋̓̿͠g̴̣͙̼̻͆̐̈́̀ ̷̟̪̓͆t̷̛̩̠̘̒̍̊ơ̷̖̙͂̈́ ̶̦͚͎̹͂d̷͎̠̮̂̌̎ỏ̵̫̈́̔͠ ̴̬͖́t̷̥̻̊͂h̶͈͙͋͌ặ̸̳̥̼͌ẗ̶̡̗̗̞́̿̀!̸̢̀̀̓̚͜ ̵̠̮̤͈̓́͑(̵͕͕̖̺̈́́̽İ̷̢̫̬͆͜v̵̛̳̱̥̈́̀́a̴̤̩̤̳͆s̶̪̍̊̎a̵͔͠â̷̟ŗ̸̘͐̈́)̷̡̪̘́

"̶͙̼̃̽y̴͚̺̳̔o̴̱͈̍u̷̹͉͉͇̽̈́ ̴͉̩̔̓h̴̞͎̮͠a̵̖̯̺͎̿v̶͕͖́e̴̬̼̱͆̉ ̷͕̥̤̎̈́̃̕t̶̺͊̔̏o̵̝͊͜,̴̯̖̹͖̓̄͘ ̴͈̞͐͘͜ŷ̵̹̳ǒ̵̧̹̖u̴͙͍͖̯̇͝ ̸͖̅̓̐͘m̴͍̠̬̺͗̃̍ắ̷͉̙͙̰̚y̶͚̆̌ ̶̢̰̰̈́͝ͅḩ̴̙̘̀͊ḁ̸͚̋̅v̴̢̰̳̹́́̈̉e̵̡̛̗̹ ̸̡͎̊̏̀p̵̮͇̺͂̈́a̵̺̻̜̫̓̈̓͘î̶̩̹͗d̷̬̳̩̣̓͐̚͝ ̵̢̲̩̭̈̒͒ǒ̶̙͈̘̮f̶̞̙͚̾̀f̶̨̢͙̯̓̔͑͗ ̶͕͂̽͋y̶͈̞̲̞͆̕ọ̷͌͋̋u̴̗̣̲̽̈ŗ̷͚͜͝ ̴̥͕͐̚ṯ̴̭̌̆e̵̹̗̓̄͠͝a̷̼͚̩̭͝ç̷̞̮̰̉̌̒h̷͕͚̎̃̕ï̴̘̤ṇ̷͕͎̹̆́̃g̷̰̃̎ ̵͖̣̅̇̊̎d̷̢͈͌͐̾e̶̩̓̀b̷̙̥̈t̵̥̓͊s̸͉̦̝̲̿͐ ̸͈̠̫̓̈́̓ḇ̴̢̪̟͑̈́̾ȕ̶̪͉̜̖̉̑ṱ̷̲̋̀͝ ̵̙̹̺͖̈́ẁ̵̫ͅh̸̬̦̪́͌̽̃a̸̤͛̈́͘͜ț̴̪̒̍ ̴͍̬̟̽a̸̡̛̮b̵̨͙̰̱̿̄̅o̴̧̝͋u̷̥̓͊͗͌t̴̡̐̊̇̈́ ̷̩̩͉̕m̴̪̤͌͜ŷ̵̜̬̂͑ ̸͖̻̓̈́̂Miracle,̶̪̕͠ ̶͓̬̭̰̈ÿ̸̡̮̣͔́͌̓͐ơ̴̜͆̈͝ǘ̷̲̪̝̗ ̷̺̠̝̹͑̇d̵͎͍͓̱͋̀̕͠i̴͇̍̊d̴̺͇̒͛̆ň̵̤̫̤͜'̵̢̺̎̑t̷̆͆ͅ ̸̡̙̫̯̊t̴̜̼̽͜h̴̭̒i̴͈̮͌̊͜n̸̫̲̮̏̐ḳ̸̉̌͑͆ ̸̲̲͙̔̈́ḭ̴͍̊̔̃t̷̙̝̤͛̅ ̷̢̞̖̓̐ͅẇ̵͕̖͔̬o̷̗͔̍́͆̄u̵̡̙͓̮͒͑͝l̶̘̬̫̈́͐d̴̡͚͍̿ ̴͕̈b̶̹̄̓̿̈́ĕ̸͎̗̍̒͠ ̶̗̈́͆̆͑t̵̨̟̍ḧ̴͙̪́͝a̵̤̦̜̲̒t̴̨̮͖̻̋ ̴͉̀̈e̸͍̔a̴̳͙͍̲͌̅s̴̯͔̖̀͛̏͝y̷̧̜̞͊͊̅ ̸̨̯͚̠͌̂͝͠d̶̯͓͘̚͜i̸̢̤̤͑͌̊̆d̵̦̏ ̵̛͖̘̇̓̓ẙ̷̢̰̠̍͐̈́ő̷̼̮̿͘u̴̥͚̖̥̍?̶̣̿̾̀͝"̵͕͐̾(̸̭̻͓̂̕M̵̺̟͓̹̈́͠i̶͖̼͖͔̍̇ṟ̵̌̈́̀ä̵̖̝͖́͊̀c̵̲̔̉̓̅l̸̖͇͇͂͘͝é̵̩͍̕ ̶̛̠̠̩̐̔̅Ḿ̷̦̜͍à̴̯̈́̀͘ņ̸̠̲̮́̐̄̚)̸̠̰̙̋ ̵̟̺̆

Ï̷͕̘v̸͎͐̊̔́a̵̧̩͖̫͗̃s̸̩̖̿ả̶̧̃̈ͅa̶̦͋̓r̷͖͎͙̮̆̽̕͝'̴̨̪̭̾̈́s̸̝̖̐ ̷̨͎̦͔̾̇v̷̛̬̏̾o̷̡̝̲̫̿͒͐͝i̶̮͗̕̚͜ͅc̵̣͈͈̾̀͌e̸̯̪̓͛͂ͅ ̵̺̘́͊͌͒͜ẃ̸̘̘͇͔͋̅͊ą̶͋̌ś̶͚͇̞̹ ̸̛͍͍̤̋̌̽ļ̶̫̊́́̈ǒ̷͓͈̙͗ư̵̲̈́͝d̶̲̃̌ ̶̛͇̲̩a̴̙͉̜͊ņ̸̈́d̵̨̛̠̤̤̾̄͝ ̵͈̣̀c̶̤̉̉̎͝o̸̝͉̮̹͊́̉͗m̶̖̖͒̀m̸̢̛̼̩̗̈́à̷̲̋̇n̶͈̓̄ḓ̵̙̎i̴̮̲̇͜ņ̵̜͕̓͊g̴̯͇̊̈́̌͑,̷͖̌͠ ̶̜̐̑͝ḣ̴͓̐̚ǐ̴̟̖s̷̢̼̞͎̉̆͑͠ ̷̬̰̹̤̍̚e̶̩̠̿͋͛͠y̷̳͚̍̎̊e̵͚̚͝s̶̩͉̠͗̓ ̶̨͍̝͋̅̚f̵͚̲́͊̏ȕ̵̼̾͝ḻ̴͗̅͒l̸̲̖̜̙̑̀́̚ ̷͉̾̀̑ő̴̡͙͎͘f̵̮̩̦͍̓̽͌̈́ ̴̪͓̩͐̊͊̂d̶̨̍ẻ̶̻̜̞̘̀̇ṯ̵̠̠͛̉̈́͜ẽ̷̻̲̀̑͜r̴͉̄̑̑̎m̸̛̯͎͖͎̀̋͘ì̶̯̃̅̀n̴͈̈́̋̕a̵̱̤͎͇͒ṫ̶͕̜́̕į̵͍̤͓͆o̶̞̽̏n̶͓̣͛̐.̶͚͕̰̋
̶̡͗ͅ
̸͔̜̯͓̐͆T̷̛̮̎h̷̘̊͊̑͆e̴͕͋̓̊͐ ̷͇͓̤͎̋m̷͙̋̓͑ǎ̸̳̩̖̭n̵̢͕̜̋́ ̸̢̰͙́̀̿į̵̑͊̑n̶̠̓ ̵̘͕̫̋t̷̹̯̥̖͂̊͋h̸͍̍̓̇͊ͅė̴̳͍͛̈́ ̴̺̼͔̥̍̔̓r̶̯̞̓ͅë̷̠͕́ͅd̵̰̣̲̻̊̿ ̴̢̓s̵̪͂͂͒ù̶̙̀͠͝i̸͉͓͌̀͘͝ť̴͇̅́ ̴̥͊i̶̞̬̳̥̕n̸͈̗͒ ̸͕̌͐f̵̟͕͌̃̍̐r̵̜̞͊̂̒͛o̵̢̩̯͌̍ͅn̷̳̫͎̎t̶͍̦͊͊͋ ̷͍̭̜́̇̀o̸̥̯͙̬̎̄̆f̷̞͋̐͌͘͜ ̵̢̝̰̑h̵͍̐̏i̷̙͔̹͑̎m̴̳̙͂͆̇ ̸͎̰̻̂̀d̶̷̴̦̙̤̄̀̈́̕͠ï̵̵̵̱̥̟͈̮͔̽̑̽̿͝d̴̶̸̢̨̪̞̝̏͗͂̀̀͝͠ ̴̵̸̯͎̪̭̫̀̅̋͐́ṅ̴̸̴̰͕̼̍̓͑̇̌ͅŏ̴̸̸̺̮̣̣̰͕̄́͗t̸̷̶̢͕̠̗̫̟̋͑̽̎̽̈́̎ ̴̵̵̤̙̲̣̩͊́̐̈̍ś̶̸̸̡̘̩̥̋̍͑ā̶̴̷͓̜̟̝̙̈ỳ̸̷̴̱̘̳͍͋͑ ̴̸̸̡̡̨̩̤̰͍͇̄͐̊̅̓̚a̴̷̷̡̛̖̥͓̗͑͑͐̒ṇ̶̸̴͚͛̂͋̋͗̊͠y̸̸̷̜͙̣̭̪͊̒̂̿̇ţ̷̸̵̜̲̤̬̓̏̋̎͋̑h̸̶̴̠̳͕̼̟̣̹́͊̔̐̇i̶̵̸̹̱͉̺̘̪̰̮̒͂̾̆͝ṇ̸̶̶̡̯̣͓̞̻̑͝ģ̶̸̴̨̭̦̹͔̺͚̎̑̊́̾̓̚

H̸̙̾e̷͉̕ ̵̠̌j̸͜͝u̵̠͘s̸͙̈́t̷̙̾ ̵͔́t̶̗͐o̴͙͊o̷̮͆k̵̜͋ ̴̯̃a̴͈̅ ̴̜͋s̵̟͊ṱ̵̀e̸̠͂p̴̧̆ ̷̩̀f̸̲͊ö̷̞́r̸͐ͅẁ̷̗a̸̲̍ř̴̩d̴̜̿ ̵̫̄ a̴͈͈͕̐̏n̸̟̐͒́ͅd̷̻̣͓͆̇̕ ̵̻̳͚͑͝t̸̲͈̞́h̸̤̘̾̓͒é̴̩̖̦̇ń̶̥ ̴̛̥̩̳̽̍ṕ̴̺̄͜ŗ̴̘̰̆̒̑̅o̶̺̞̱̝͆͆͛̽ċ̴̻͝e̷̫͂̒ě̶̥̕d̵̘̭̮͋̑̊͝e̷̙̤̭͗͆͛̆ḍ̴̣͒͑͐͝ ̷̝̺̆͒͋̓f̵͍̠̻̥̃͆̚ǭ̴̹̟͛̕ͅr̴̻͍̙̔́w̸̧̬̫̏a̵̞̟͉͒̍̚͠ř̷̈́̿́͜d̵̗̱̼͔̈́ŝ̸̜͔̉͂́ ̷̫̫̉̾͒͠ą̴͖͒l̴̯̹̇̅̈́ṃ̷̣̬̀̂o̵̗͇̒͂s̵̼̍̌t̶̞̳̥̹̎̓ ̸͔͐̾l̸̛̫͈̣̖i̸̢̭̫̎k̶̜͖̙͔̀e̴̯̜͒͆̑ ̷̮̞̒

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̺͕̀͌a̵̡͚͛͐s̷̜̜͙̎̌ͅḑ̷̄͗̓l̵͎͐̅̋a̵̡̟͊̍ş̸̜͒́͑ń̶̦͖̝̣̾d̴͕̀̕ļ̵̮̭͋ͅa̷̡̯̓̂̎̈́ś̸͍͈̙̎̀̀d̶̗̹͓̋̽́͜n̴̟̳͖͊͋j̵̦͈̮͝â̶͓s̸̲̃͒͜b̴̛͍̥̪̾͆̆ḑ̵̢̖̿̀̿͊ȧ̵̪g̴̦̼̭͒d̵͕̏͆ä̷̜̦̈́d̴͇̲͒͊̃́k̵̘̜̜̒͠j̸̛̞̬̟̑̚a̴̝̗̼͎̽ẖ̶̻̈͠s̶̜̻͑́̅d̵̫̲͔̒̐̈́̈́k̸̝͇̽̔͠j̷̝̼̓̈́a̵̟̼̪͊s̷̻͚̭̔̒̕d̵̗̽̓͜͝j̸̬̑͋n̸̨͎͖̬̂̽á̷͔͙́͝s̷̩̓̌͐͝d̵̤̥̳̔̊̓̽n̶͙͇͒̽̔͠a̴̤̣̫̬͝s̵͚̙̳̦͋͘j̸̩̚d̵̲̈͜ĺ̵̹̬̜̔͝͝å̷̛̝s̵͎̄͊̚d̷͐̓̎̏͜l̶̹͑ą̴̮̦͇̈͛͘̕s̶̡̟͚̈́̆ņ̷̧̓ḓ̷͚̗̤̏̽l̵̢̤̝̝̏̐a̵̼͑̚s̷͉̈́̏̀͂d̶̺͍̔̓ń̸̘͔͓͊ǰ̸̠̳̰ã̶̛͚̘̦̂s̵͈͒̄̐͠b̸̢͍̰̻̅̅d̷̪͙̐̚a̶̭̪̍g̸̻͑̅̐͘d̶̟͕͍͒̈́ͅâ̵͉̖̪̥d̴̗̽k̶̮̒ǰ̴̬͉̰͐̀͝ả̴̡̺̜͐̈́̕h̴̦̮̝̿̾͆͜s̴̨̯͈͆̓͑d̶̙̼͕̓̈k̸͉͌͘ǰ̶̱̺͉ḁ̷̧͉͋͂̂͠s̵͍͚͌d̵̳̤̜́͜j̵̡̭͇͍͐n̴͇͒ȧ̵̝͙ͅș̴̳̖̱̎̈́͑d̸͖̝͔̓n̶̯̪̼͂͛̏̎ȁ̷̼̟͇̒̆ͅs̶̩̦̑̓̌j̷̢͙͍̲̐d̵̖̍l̸̢̛̛͓̣͛̅ă̷̩̳͓̮̈ś̷̡̃̂d̶̡͉̮͙͗̍̀̅l̷͍̹̓̌̑͜ą̸̮̍̈́͌̑s̷̤͆̍ņ̸͇̅͛̈́̔d̸͚̞͖͕̏l̶͎͉͉̙̇̄̊a̴͍̭͒͊s̶̨͕͐d̴̻͉̑n̸͕̈́̃̎j̸̟̈́͘a̶̫̠̠͙͂s̴̻̜͌̓͛b̷̙̬̈́̈́̍d̶̛̺̟͑͗a̴̞̺͉͔͗̂͒g̷̼͂d̶͐̄̍̾͜a̷̼͖̞͊ͅd̷͎͍͑̋k̶̠̾́͝͝j̸̱̞̭͐͑͐͝ȧ̸͇̰̪͝h̸̢̰͖̐s̶̲͍͒̀̾̕d̸̢̰͎͙̓̿̈͠ḳ̶͛j̷̘͎͚̅͑à̷̡͕̣s̸̙̈́̽̏̎d̵͈͉̺̔j̸͉̺̜̜̉̈́̈́n̸̨͔̄́̂̽ä̴̧́̈̆͛s̵̪̹͔̊͆ḑ̷͔͉̗̾̑̚n̴͓̝̗̰͐̽̈͗a̴͖̘̭̿s̵̯͖͎͊̄̈́͒j̴̝̙̯̃d̶̳̥̦͉̃l̸̺̠͖͋͛̌̐a̷̪͔̰͗̄́̐s̴̢͔͛̈́̆̕d̵̰͚͕̊̈l̴̙̰̜̼̅͑á̶̢͍̣̗͘s̸̢̯̣̑̽̄͊n̸͔̥̝̉ḑ̵̹̆̃͗l̶͇̔a̷̮͆̓͛̇ŝ̴̬̠d̶̝̱̽n̴͚͙͓̲͋͘͝j̶̢̪̩̏̆͝͝å̵̠̗̯ṣ̵̢̫͋͗͝ḃ̸̢̥͓̭̌d̵̛̘̍̔a̸̪̱̭̞̋̈́̕g̴̙͐͛͠d̵͕͕̿͊͐a̷͇͚͐̂́̀ḑ̸̟̝̰̋̑̈̀k̷̨̢̀͠j̴̠̹̚ă̷̹͚̯͎̾͝h̷̰̭͓̫̿s̷̹̞̬͑d̵̤͚̝͝ḱ̸̢̪̖̟͘j̵̜̇̈́ǎ̸̻s̶͚̱͖̰͛͂͠d̷̝̯̓̿j̵͎̈̓̑n̸̡̤̱̿͜͝a̶̧̜̩̿s̵͕̫̤̦͊̋̆͂d̶̗͋̄͋̊n̶̲̻̊̎a̷̗͖̝̓͑͝ş̴̹̩̼̍j̴̧̗̿͘d̵͕̀͜͝l̷̨̞̻̏̍̒á̷̜̳̻͑́̎ͅs̸̡̯̩͇̀d̸͖̦͌͊̇l̷̨̫̹̾̿͗a̶̢̦̰̚͠s̴͉̈́͘n̴̼͇̅̏̅̿d̴̠̬̥̎̚l̷͆̏ͅa̵̘̠̼̦͛̊s̵̱̬̞̪̎͂d̵̞̠̙̻̿n̸̝̅̅̇̓j̸̜̋̅́â̷̜̮̓̾s̶̢̖̈́͜ͅb̷̠̙̼̲́̃d̸̨̲̅̏ä̴̡͉̰̔̽͗͜ģ̴͙́̎̇d̶̦͓̻͈̃̍ä̷̧͖̠́d̵̡̰̖̅k̶̼̙̑̒͛͝j̸͕̣̗̤̏͒̒͝ḁ̶̼͇͚̂h̵͈̖̣̕s̶͓̩̺̐̾͐ḑ̴̲̩͊k̴̢̜̆̈͠j̴̣̞͂̉̎ȧ̸̢s̷̨̰͚̞͒̂̌̕d̸͚̻͊̀j̷̫̣͎̿͂͐̌n̸͎̯̏͆͗a̶̠̅͐š̴͉̝̀̎d̶̬̼̲̽n̷̲͑̔ạ̵̉̚͝s̸͈̀̂j̴̠͇̜̝̀̊̇d̴̡͎͓͚̐̀̅̕l̵̜̜̻̯̎̓ä̷̢̩͍̔͘s̸̞͙͗d̶͖͗ľ̶̺̈́̅͝a̸̢̖̤̙͌͗s̸̝̞̊̇n̷͇̿́͗d̵͖̜͖͑̈̍ͅĺ̸͉a̵̭͊̊ͅș̸̡̓̓̎d̶̨̪͛͊̋͝n̷̖̩͆̌̏j̵͎̫̉́̎͂ả̵̮̬s̸̗̆ḅ̶̍d̷͚͇͈̓̎̿ͅa̵̝̭͎̘͋̓ĝ̴̮̀̈́ͅḓ̵̈́̊á̶͙͍͇͠͠ḋ̶̞̞͓̀̒͜k̵̜̯̖͛j̶̃̈͋ͅa̵̪̩̐̉͒͌h̵͖̗̃̀͠ș̸̢͓͓͌̏d̷̝̃̍̍̔k̴͚̥̝̇͒́j̴͎͂a̴̡͎͇̅͠ś̴̜̼̾́̈́d̴̨̼̱̕j̸̣͍̏̈́͐̀n̷͈͈̙̾a̸̹̗̲̣͐s̷͓̝͖̮͑d̸̪̳͚̖̀́n̴̢̞͕̾a̴͐̓ͅs̵̞͊͒j̷̤̑d̷̬͍͒͠l̸̰̘̄͐ͅa̷̝̓ş̴̱̠̅̔̈́͐ḏ̴̻̗͗̓ļ̷̧͚̮̈́̓ạ̶̤͚̀͛ś̴͔͉̈́ň̵͚̰͑ḓ̶̺̈ľ̷̻̖̐̚a̸̹͖͉̎̂͑̿s̷̨̲̻͑͝ͅd̵̨̞̀̅͂̕n̸̼̘͇͗̏͜j̷̫̫̙͎̿̀̿͠a̴̡̤̯͍̓̇͝s̶̘̳̫̰̿̈̃͘b̸̝̍͑̍d̵̜͚͚̳̈́a̶͍͑̾̐ģ̷͉̯̌̽͘d̴͎͌͠a̵̱̭͔͐͜ḓ̶̥̹̖̅̏̕k̴͔̞̺̇̒̕j̸̯́̄ȃ̷̫̘h̸̝́̈́̋š̵̬͜ḋ̷̮̚k̵͈̽͐͝j̶̲͖́a̶̠̫̼̿̂̚͝s̷̛͙̠͛̿̃d̷̫͒j̵̡̲̙̠́̐̚n̸̦̟͔͋͒̆̈́ầ̷̮̑s̶̫̹̫͍̐d̸͉̄͂̋́n̶̬͖͆̈́̓ä̷͈̣́̑͊̕s̶̠͙̬̎̈̾j̴̧̭̬̔̃ḓ̸̽̍l̷̰̘͇̐́̕̕ȃ̶̭͚͇͍͑s̶̩͗͛̈͝d̷̞̗̲̤͊͊̉l̷̛͉̪̕͠͝ȧ̶͍̯̯͐̎ś̷̟̫͈͆͊̿ǹ̷͚̫̺d̴͈̘͐͌̇͝l̷̥͔̊̈̽͠à̸̦̭̣̔̈́̀͜ś̶̫͙̮̓̕͜d̴̤̆̇̆̈́n̷̳̹̯̿j̷̱͋̏͛ḁ̸̫̟̉s̷̰̄͆͠b̶̧͙́̕d̸̺̼̼̣͌̑́a̵̰̞̳͈̍́̊ģ̷̘̝͍̔͑d̴̳̀̿̽à̸̘͉̇̔d̶͇̦̀͝͝k̷̭̘͇̅͆̀j̸͎̊͗a̴͔̦͍̽̾̈́͂ͅh̵͓̉s̸͓̦͑̃͘ͅd̵͇͔̣̒̌ͅk̶̜͚̬̿̕̚͝j̷̘̮͐̅̔à̸̢̬̜̝̔̚s̶̬̦̯̒́͝d̵͓̖̖͌ͅj̷̝̫̥̬̏͊̐̈́n̷͈̩̺̩̎͐̓͊a̸̮͊ͅș̵̛̟́̊̚d̴̢̰͙̖̐n̶̢̨̰̑̄̾̓a̵̦̬̾̃̉̔s̴̱͓͈̀́̚j̷̲̰̓̈̇́d̷̯͗̏͜ļ̴͙̈ȧ̶̧̟͈̌š̶̟̙̯d̶͚̆͊͛l̴̥͎͔̊ͅā̴̫̃s̸̺͎̘̏͐́̈́n̴̈́͜d̴̨͉͕͋l̷̡͔̞͍͗͌̂a̷͉͊̾͠s̷͔̽̏̽͠d̵̰͎̪̀ṅ̷̻j̶̼̀̉́̀a̴̖͎̲̓̾̉s̷̡̬̑͂͘̚b̴̝̫̓ḑ̸̳̰͖̒à̴̗̖̫̦̈́g̵̭̖̞͑̉́d̷͉͎͆a̵̱͚͘d̴͖̦̬͋̌k̶̰͔͓͗j̷̛̝̥̟̀͠ą̴̭̙͐h̷̘̪̃͜ṣ̵̒d̶̝̼̠̞̍̈́̔͒k̸̞͈͌͝j̶͈͙̇a̷̺̔s̵̩͓̗̔̀ḏ̶̟̻̕j̵̛̲̭͖͙͂̋̃n̸̮̊̀͋͋a̷̜̣͗̈̂͋s̵̢̻̾͑̈́́d̸͈̍̃n̸̛͆̽ͅa̴̪̥͐̓s̵̢̠̤̄̐̈́͠j̴̼͔̒̆ḋ̷̹̲͉l̸̙̰̅͠a̵̧̭͕̮͂s̵̅̇̓̿ͅd̸̠͖͂l̸̘̎͒̈́a̴̧̲̬͛͘ͅs̴̡̭͉̊n̵̗̫̜̻̄͐̕͝ď̷̖̗̄l̴̼͋̎a̶̳̔͆́͆s̶͇͂d̷̯̄̈́͠n̶̯͐̐̊̓j̵̹̩̝͔̑́̈́̏ả̷͔͝s̶̻͇̱̈́b̸̢̗̟̠͂͊́̉d̸̘̈̕͘a̷̳͇͉̿̉́͝g̴͓͌̿̎d̷̝̪̘̅̚a̸͔̖̻̼͊̊͝͠d̸͚͓̟̒̊̔̉k̷͓͐̑̂j̸̠̟͔̏̇͘͝ả̴̜̼̈́h̷̢̬̘̍̒̿s̸̡̰̈́̈́̀d̸̡̖̜̓k̷̹͖͖̓̍͛j̸͉̱̅͜ȃ̸͉̳̮̊s̶̟͔̀ḓ̵̡̱͓̔̐j̶̰̩̰͛̇̉͝n̸͇̈͆̓ạ̶͜͠s̴̡̛͕̅̾d̵͇̀n̵̩͔̻̓à̷̠̤̮͋ś̷̰͓̗ͅj̶͙̻̱̾̓͊͛d̵͇͆̉l̷̗̦̼̹̚a̷͖̾̆͝ṣ̴̭̑̔d̷̨͐l̸̹͛̉̋͝ã̴͕̎͂͜s̷̰̝͙̮̀̄̏́ņ̸̨͎̰̅̐̾d̷͍͓͈̫̕l̴̛͚̼͌ā̶̡̛̪̠̱͆͒ṣ̷͎̽d̸͙̬̱̼̍n̶̩͋̃j̵̫̣͚̈́̇å̶͉̱̍͝s̶̥͂͐͠b̴̼͕͕̳̾d̸͔̰͌̋a̷̩̭̕͠ġ̶̞̳̓d̸̩̟̀̕ä̴̯͈̏̉͆ḓ̵̬̞̋k̸̝͕̞͘j̵̡̗͂̃̎̍ǎ̷̖̹͓͊h̶̻͊ś̸̞̽̑͝d̵̫̀͠k̸̼̥͂j̵̟̱͕̅a̴͙͐̈́̅s̸̫̪̕͝d̸̈́̔̄͜j̴̫͍̳̓͒͐͜͠n̸̩͇̿̒͝à̷̧̟s̴̱͉͖̊͐̉́ḑ̶̫͖̂̕͠n̸̳͙̫͚͗͛̀͐á̵̛̙͝s̴̢̡̝̈́́͜j̸̯̿d̵̮̀̓͠l̵̘̺̆͋͂â̵̢̭͌͜͜s̷̡͉̠̰̄̿̽͑d̷̩̜̮͆̀̈͠l̸̨̢͖̬͛ȧ̸̳͍̻̽͑ͅs̷̫̭̲̺͒ñ̶̲͙̫̒̃d̶̡̾̽͗͛l̷̘̭̼̥̉͘ą̸̌s̷͕̃d̸̯̐̾͘n̵̡̛̲̫̈͗ͅj̶̛͙̮̫ȃ̴̫̰̱͆̎̏s̸͎̱̋̚b̵̖͉͙͈̎͛̀̎ḋ̷̡̪̜̰̀̄̚ä̴̟́̉͒g̶̠͋̄͘ḋ̴̹͆͆͝à̴̘̠̪d̴̘̅ͅk̵̼͓͌j̴̢͉̰͇̈a̷̗̥͗h̷̦̋̇̒ș̴̰̙̅̍d̸͉̠́k̸̎͜ͅj̵̢͈͓̔̈́̑ä̸̙̠̋s̷͈͖̑̐d̷̢͇̠̈́͘͠j̴̨̙̬̆͜n̷͉͈̈́̿͝a̷̭͚̱̅s̴̱̲̥̕d̶͇̀́͗ṉ̶͍̮͖̐̓͝͝a̶̗͑s̸͉̻̪̰̄j̷̗̩̩̥̔̾͑̾d̴̝̲͆l̴̮̊a̶͎̹͆́͂̊s̶̝̮̼̒̿͘d̴͙̩͈͋͐͊l̴̥̯̽a̴̧̼̤̔̏͋ş̸̝̈͒n̶̺̎̉d̴̨͉̦̀͜l̶̫̭͋̀͗͛ǎ̷̱̝͍̔s̴̩̳̒͠ͅd̷̙̱͋̂͑͝n̵̼̍̉j̵̜̣͒̅̍̋a̵̲͂̚s̷͎̎́̎̚b̵̟̦̀d̷͉͇̅̂̓͌͜a̵̞͂͆ͅg̷̰͕̖̎͠ḏ̴̗̮̼͛͒̐a̶̫͆̈́d̶̺̦́͐̓k̵͇̤͒̒̈̔j̸̥̲̠̿̋̈́̈ȁ̵͖͇̯̠̽̇̓h̸̖́̋̀͝s̷̻̅͜͜d̷̜̅̀̾k̶͓̬͙̓͐̑͠j̶̙̪̫͗a̷̭̟͂š̶̮̉͌͊d̵̰̿͋͝j̶̥̯͍̟̆n̸̮̲̼͛ȁ̶̯̩͉̹̌͛̍ş̷͍͖̀̈̀ͅḑ̶͈͔͊̏̂n̷̛̪̭̹̪͗å̸̳̩͍̝̚ș̷̟͠j̸̛̞̝̖̀̃d̵̨̹̳̀͑̿l̶̔͆̀ͅă̵̱̞s̸͕̫̯̽d̵̼̿ḻ̴̲̈̚ͅâ̸̹̤͇͋s̶̠̚͠n̸̬͑d̴̢͕̹͈̀̄̚ĺ̵̨͖͖̳̎̏á̸͙̅̚ś̵̩̃d̷͔͔̫͠n̸̖͙̱͌ͅj̵͓̗̩̍a̸̙̞̰͌s̷̱͈̫̈́b̸̠͌ḓ̸̉̃̓a̸̪̳̍g̷̥̳̃̕d̴̞͓͎̎̄͌a̷̹̬̪͉̓̔̔͘ḍ̸̔̍͗k̷̢̨̛̮̟̓̏͐j̸͔̙͓̃̑͘a̶̜͔̤͑̈́̍h̸̻̺͂̄̿̊ṡ̵͖̦ͅd̶͚̓k̷̰̖̂͊̈́͊ͅj̷̦̜͆̌̋͋͜a̸̧̲̰̗͆s̸̮̃̽̈́d̸̡͑̽j̸̇̌͐͑ͅn̴͉͇̯͈̾́ą̴̯͒̕s̶̜̝̹͈̋̀d̸͈̞͙͗̓n̶̡͑̐a̷̭͙͔̍̿̌s̵̭̈́͝j̵̻͍̎̂̒ḑ̵̘̀l̸̫̋̎͊ȃ̷͇͚͌̉͜s̴̻̻͛d̵̮̃̀͊̆l̴̲̗̲̙̄͊ả̶̼͇͘s̷̥̦̖̽͌n̵͍͛͊̚͝ḑ̴̖̦̎̌̅l̷͇̱̏a̴͙͍̽̒̈́s̸̱̺̙͓̈́͆d̴̦̼̖͇̀͂́n̸͖̹̉̏͗j̴̾̀̚͜á̶̝̪͉̹s̶̛̘͚͕̿̌̈b̸̺̗̀̾̀͝d̷̨̦͚̍̀̾a̷͔͒́̓g̷̯͓͚͉̾͆͛d̶̛͇͎͉̰̑͠ả̸̢̪̇̌͜͝d̴̡͇͖̜̓͛̈k̶̝͕̗͘j̷̛̳̰̎͐ạ̸̑h̶̦̃s̷͖̙̿̀ḍ̷̬̮͍̄̌̃̑k̶̠̿̽͠j̵̧͙̜̇͠a̸̡̿͊͒s̵͍͐̍d̸͎͆͘j̷̧̮͈̈́n̴̩͑̑̕a̶̯̝̭͙͗͝ś̵̖d̵͇͛̑͑n̶̤̭̙͔̔͋̿͗á̵͉̯̬̟͆̎s̵̛̰̀j̶̝̞͇̈̀̂ͅd̴̟̮̟̞͆l̶͚̻͈̾a̴̙͂͌͒s̵͍̹̋d̴̛̼̾̍͝l̸̟͑̾ḁ̵̼̈́̑̽s̴̡̩̫̮̐̆ǹ̵̻̾͋̋d̴͙̎͗͝l̵͙̯̰̪͂̓̓͛a̵͇͒̇̈́͘s̸͖͔̱͇͒̌d̷̫͌̇̚ṉ̷̖̘̯́̇͗̚j̸͎̻͖̖̈́̅͠ȃ̴͉̼ͅs̷̩̊b̵͖̚͝d̴̗̯̻̗̑a̸̘͕̖̎͝g̶̲̯̠͊̓̆d̷͉͂͠a̸̰͌̆̀͘d̴̰̭͌̋͜͝k̸̈́͆͜j̷̤̮̒̍̅͜ã̸͍̹̐͋h̵̳͉͍͚͑͘s̶̞̠͖̣͐̎d̴̤̆͜k̸̫͖̂͛j̷̦̿à̶̱̳͙͘͘͘s̶̥͚̪̱̑d̶̞͈̿̄͂̈́j̵͓̦͓͕̊͛́̕n̶̯̑̇à̵̪͑̈s̷̲̊̄d̷̛̛͚̹̎̍n̵͔͇̮͕͋̋̃ạ̵̟̇̎s̵̭̯͆̌͆̊j̶͉͖͉̥̈́̂̏͝d̴̺̲̞̀̔̾͜l̵͒́͜ấ̸̤̣̒͘ş̶̰͙̰̐͗͑d̸͎͍͘l̶̢̥͙̚ͅa̸̧̲̩̳͆s̴͍̻͖͇̋n̷̮̼͓͌͂̓͝d̸̼͐̎͋͑ḽ̷͚͔̋̂a̷͓͇̩͑̏̕͝s̴̛̼̞̪̑̍̾ḓ̶̼̽̅͝ͅn̵̳͖̔͑̄j̵̨͔̱̋́̽͛a̴̬͉̭̋͊s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j̷̦̜͆̌̋͋͜a̸̧̲̰̗͆s̸̮̃̽̈́d̸̡͑̽j̸̇̌͐͑ͅn̴͉͇̯͈̾́ą̴̯͒̕s̶̜̝̹͈̋̀d̸͈̞͙͗̓n̶̡͑̐a̷̭͙͔̍̿̌s̵̭̈́͝j̵̻͍̎̂̒ḑ̵̘̀l̸̫̋̎͊ȃ̷͇͚͌̉͜s̴̻̻͛d̵̮̃̀͊̆l̴̲̗̲̙̄͊ả̶̼͇͘s̷̥̦̖̽͌n̵͍͛͊̚͝ḑ̴̖̦̎̌̅l̷͇̱̏a̴͙͍̽̒̈́s̸̱̺̙͓̈́͆d̴̦̼̖͇̀͂́n̸͖̹̉̏͗j̴̾̀̚͜á̶̝̪͉̹s̶̛̘͚͕̿̌̈b̸̺̗̀̾̀͝d̷̨̦͚̍̀̾a̷͔͒́̓g̷̯͓͚͉̾͆͛d̶̛͇͎͉̰̑͠ả̸̢̪̇̌͜͝d̴̡͇͖̜̓͛̈k̶̝͕̗͘j̷̛̳̰̎͐ạ̸̑h̶̦̃s̷͖̙̿̀ḍ̷̬̮͍̄̌̃̑k̶̠̿̽͠j̵̧͙̜̇͠a̸̡̿͊͒s̵͍͐̍d̸͎͆͘j̷̧̮͈̈́n̴̩͑̑̕a̶̯̝̭͙͗͝ś̵̖d̵͇͛̑͑n̶̤̭̙͔̔͋̿͗á̵͉̯̬̟͆̎s̵̛̰̀j̶̝̞͇̈̀̂ͅd̴̟̮̟̞͆l̶͚̻͈̾a̴̙͂͌͒s̵͍̹̋d̴̛̼̾̍͝l̸̟͑̾ḁ̵̼̈́̑̽s̴̡̩̫̮̐̆ǹ̵̻̾͋̋d̴͙̎͗͝l̵͙̯̰̪͂̓̓͛a̵͇͒̇̈́͘s̸͖͔̱͇͒̌d̷̫͌̇̚ṉ̷̖̘̯́̇͗̚j̸͎̻͖̖̈́̅͠ȃ̴͉̼ͅs̷̩̊b̵͖̚͝d̴̗̯̻̗̑a̸̘͕̖̎͝g̶̲̯̠͊̓̆d̷͉͂͠a̸̰͌̆̀͘d̴̰̭͌̋͜͝k̸̈́͆͜j̷̤̮̒̍̅͜ã̸͍̹̐͋h̵̳͉͍͚͑͘s̶̞̠͖̣͐̎d̴̤̆͜k̸̫͖̂͛j̷̦̿à̶̱̳͙͘͘͘s̶̥͚̪̱̑d̶̞͈̿̄͂̈́j̵͓̦͓͕̊͛́̕n̶̯̑̇à̵̪͑̈s̷̲̊̄d̷̛̛͚̹̎̍n̵͔͇̮͕͋̋̃ạ̵̟̇̎s̵̭̯͆̌͆̊j̶͉͖͉̥̈́̂̏͝d̴̺̲̞̀̔̾͜l̵͒́͜ấ̸̤̣̒͘ş̶̰͙̰̐͗͑d̸͎͍͘l̶̢̥͙̚ͅa̸̧̲̩̳͆s̴͍̻͖͇̋n̷̮̼͓͌͂̓͝d̸̼͐̎͋͑ḽ̷͚͔̋̂a̷͓͇̩͑̏̕͝s̴̛̼̞̪̑̍̾ḓ̶̼̽̅͝ͅn̵̳͖̔͑̄j̵̨͔̱̋́̽͛a̴̬͉̭̋͊s̵̬̀b̷͕̥̿̍d̵̛̦̈́̋a̴̧̔g̸̘̻̝̫̑̄́ḓ̵͐̒͘͝a̴̬͎̦̘͗d̸͚͚͖̆̌̕͝k̴̞̳̙̀͂͜j̷̧̟͙̘̍̏̔͝å̸̳ḣ̶̢͉͈̱ś̶̯̗d̴͇̯́̂̊͜k̷͇͌̑͝j̶̗̊̆a̷̡͓̞͂͛͘s̴͉̓̅͠d̵̰͕̊́j̶̞͆̓͝͠ṋ̶̽̊å̷̧̬͎͠s̴̙͇̹̟̎̅͛̅d̷͇̫̰̓n̵̢͖̮̆̀a̸͙̻͌̂̍s̵̯̈́͘j̵͈͚̫̙̈́d̴̡̟͒͂l̸̨͙̘̱̍̂a̵̧̳̻̋͆́ş̴͆́d̸̮͐l̴̺̙̱̈̋̆ă̸͈̾s̶͎͋͆̌̽͜n̶̢̼̠̈̉d̴̫̝̊͐ḻ̵̡̯͒̂̓͝a̶̛̰͚͕͍̽͂s̷̛̯̓́͆d̵̢̛̗͋͠n̸͖̥̐̃ͅj̵̨̣̈́͒̓â̷̠̭̤̹̋̐̽ş̵̝͆̐̂̄b̵̰̣̔d̶̖͑̏̎ả̷̻̫͉̺̚g̷̕͝͝ͅd̴͔̭͈͍́̽̀ǎ̴̮̙͓̱̿̍d̵̟̝͐͘͜͠͝ķ̸̛̺͉̦̽̋̌ĵ̸̭͖̙̤͗a̸̙͗̉͠ȟ̷̨̳̫͇ś̵̢̥͕̪́̍d̵̩̙̦̘̽͛͊͠ḱ̶͙̊̈́͒j̴̜̝̃͐̒͜ä̶̠̠̳̩̇s̶͓͔̹̾̀̂ḏ̶̼͋͆j̴̺̈̍n̸̪̅͒̏̉a̵̝̹͔̿̉s̴̺͗̏͝d̴̼͈̓̃̃n̴͙̣̐̐ͅa̶̫̗͇̳̔̓͛̄s̴̗̙̞̪̆j̸̮͒d̷̡̗̈́̽l̸͎̳͓̺̀͂a̷̰̱̙̔ͅs̶̬̝͉̲̏̌d̸̛͖̗͚̀͆l̵̪͚͎̅̏̐̑ȃ̵̗̐́̎s̵̹͓̝͚̔̀̔n̶̬̓d̶̜̝͚͚͝͝l̵͓̲̮̂͛̓à̸̳̫̘̆̄͂s̸̠͕̐̽ḍ̶̦̤͕́n̸̢̜͉̖̈́̈͠j̶̨̟̠̋ȧ̵͉̥̮s̶͛̊͜b̶͈̣̍͒̀̄d̸̦̂̈́̿͜a̵̲̐g̸̨͔̮͈̚d̵̢̝͎̊̓ả̶̰̫͈̤d̵͙͍̺̗̿̓̕͘k̸̦̹̆͛̈́͑j̷̡̧̫̗̚a̴̘͝h̵̩͙̚s̸̜̜̫̲̐͗̓͝ḍ̵͙̬̗͐͑̆͆k̷̭̬͎̓̚j̶̡͕̫͋̊̀͝a̴͈͚̪̓̕s̷͕̗̬͒̾ḋ̷̡͎́̆̕j̷̩̓n̷̡͓̞̯͛̏̌̕a̵̳̞͍̽̐ͅs̷̲̼̀d̸͖̤͍̗́̋̑͐n̶̫̖̓̕a̴̲̠͕͓̒s̷̹̪͆̃͝j̵͓̓ḑ̸̢̛̞̅̐͐l̶͖̰̺͕̀͌a̵̡͚͛͐s̷̜̜͙̎̌ͅḑ̷̄͗̓l̵͎͐̅̋a̵̡̟͊̍ş̸̜͒́͑ń̶̦͖̝̣̾d̴͕̀̕ļ̵̮̭͋ͅa̷̡̯̓̂̎̈́ś̸͍͈̙̎̀̀d̶̗̹͓̋̽́͜n̴̟̳͖͊͋j̵̦͈̮͝â̶͓s̸̲̃͒͜b̴̛͍̥̪̾͆̆ḑ̵̢̖̿̀̿͊ȧ̵̪g̴̦̼̭͒d̵͕̏͆ä̷̜̦̈́d̴͇̲͒͊̃́k̵̘̜̜̒͠j̸̛̞̬̟̑̚a̴̝̗̼͎̽ẖ̶̻̈͠s̶̜̻͑́̅d̵̫̲͔̒̐̈́̈́k̸̝͇̽̔͠j̷̝̼̓̈́a̵̟̼̪͊s̷̻͚̭̔̒̕d̵̗̽̓͜͝j̸̬̑͋n̸̨͎͖̬̂̽á̷͔͙́͝s̷̩̓̌͐͝d̵̤̥̳̔̊̓̽n̶͙͇͒̽̔͠a̴̤̣̫̬͝s̵͚̙̳̦͋͘j̸̩̚d̵̲̈͜ĺ̵̹̬̜̔͝͝å̷̛̝s̵͎̄͊̚d̷͐̓̎̏͜l̶̹͑ą̴̮̦͇̈͛͘̕s̶̡̟͚̈́̆ņ̷̧̓ḓ̷͚̗̤̏̽l̵̢̤̝̝̏̐a̵̼͑̚s̷͉̈́̏̀͂d̶̺͍̔̓ń̸̘͔͓͊ǰ̸̠̳̰ã̶̛͚̘̦̂s̵͈͒̄̐͠b̸̢͍̰̻̅̅d̷̪͙̐̚a̶̭̪̍g̸̻͑̅̐͘d̶̟͕͍͒̈́ͅâ̵͉̖̪̥d̴̗̽k̶̮̒ǰ̴̬͉̰͐̀͝ả̴̡̺̜͐̈́̕h̴̦̮̝̿̾͆͜s̴̨̯͈͆̓͑d̶̙̼͕̓̈k̸͉͌͘ǰ̶̱̺͉ḁ̷̧͉͋͂̂͠s̵͍͚͌d̵̳̤̜́͜j̵̡̭͇͍͐n̴͇͒ȧ̵̝͙ͅș̴̳̖̱̎̈́͑d̸͖̝͔̓n̶̯̪̼͂͛̏̎ȁ̷̼̟͇̒̆ͅs̶̩̦̑̓̌j̷̢͙͍̲̐d̵̖̍l̸̢̛̛͓̣͛̅ă̷̩̳͓̮̈ś̷̡̃̂d̶̡͉̮͙͗̍̀̅l̷͍̹̓̌̑͜ą̸̮̍̈́͌̑s̷̤͆̍ņ̸͇̅͛̈́̔d̸͚̞͖͕̏l̶͎͉͉̙̇̄̊a̴͍̭͒͊s̶̨͕͐d̴̻͉̑n̸͕̈́̃̎j̸̟̈́͘a̶̫̠̠͙͂s̴̻̜͌̓͛b̷̙̬̈́̈́̍d̶̛̺̟͑͗a̴̞̺͉͔͗̂͒g̷̼͂d̶͐̄̍̾͜a̷̼͖̞͊ͅd̷͎͍͑̋k̶̠̾́͝͝j̸̱̞̭͐͑͐͝ȧ̸͇̰̪͝h̸̢̰͖̐s̶̲͍͒̀̾̕d̸̢̰͎͙̓̿̈͠ḳ̶͛j̷̘͎͚̅͑à̷̡͕̣s̸̙̈́̽̏̎d̵͈͉̺̔j̸͉̺̜̜̉̈́̈́n̸̨͔̄́̂̽ä̴̧́̈̆͛s̵̪̹͔̊͆ḑ̷͔͉̗̾̑̚n̴͓̝̗̰͐̽̈͗a̴͖̘̭̿s̵̯͖͎͊̄̈́͒j̴̝̙̯̃d̶̳̥̦͉̃l̸̺̠͖͋͛̌̐a̷̪͔̰͗̄́̐s̴̢͔͛̈́̆̕d̵̰͚͕̊̈l̴̙̰̜̼̅͑á̶̢͍̣̗͘s̸̢̯̣̑̽̄͊n̸͔̥̝̉ḑ̵̹̆̃͗l̶͇̔a̷̮͆̓͛̇ŝ̴̬̠d̶̝̱̽n̴͚͙͓̲͋͘͝j̶̢̪̩̏̆͝͝å̵̠̗̯ṣ̵̢̫͋͗͝ḃ̸̢̥͓̭̌d̵̛̘̍̔a̸̪̱̭̞̋̈́̕g̴̙͐͛͠d̵͕͕̿͊͐a̷͇͚͐̂́̀ḑ̸̟̝̰̋̑̈̀k̷̨̢̀͠j̴̠̹̚ă̷̹͚̯͎̾͝h̷̰̭͓̫̿s̷̹̞̬͑d̵̤͚̝͝ḱ̸̢̪̖̟͘j̵̜̇̈́ǎ̸̻s̶͚̱͖̰͛͂͠d̷̝̯̓̿j̵͎̈̓̑n̸̡̤̱̿͜͝a̶̧̜̩̿s̵͕̫̤̦͊̋̆͂d̶̗͋̄͋̊n̶̲̻̊̎a̷̗͖̝̓͑͝ş̴̹̩̼̍j̴̧̗̿͘d̵͕̀͜͝l̷̨̞̻̏̍̒á̷̜̳̻͑́̎ͅs̸̡̯̩͇̀d̸͖̦͌͊̇l̷̨̫̹̾̿͗a̶̢̦̰̚͠s̴͉̈́͘n̴̼͇̅̏̅̿d̴̠̬̥̎̚l̷͆̏ͅa̵̘̠̼̦͛̊s̵̱̬̞̪̎͂d̵̞̠̙̻̿n̸̝̅̅̇̓j̸̜̋̅́â̷̜̮̓̾s̶̢̖̈́͜ͅb̷̠̙̼̲́̃d̸̨̲̅̏ä̴̡͉̰̔̽͗͜ģ̴͙́̎̇d̶̦͓̻͈̃̍ä̷̧͖̠́d̵̡̰̖̅k̶̼̙̑̒͛͝j̸͕̣̗̤̏͒̒͝ḁ̶̼͇͚̂h̵͈̖̣̕s̶͓̩̺̐̾͐ḑ̴̲̩͊k̴̢̜̆̈͠j̴̣̞͂̉̎ȧ̸̢s̷̨̰͚̞͒̂̌̕d̸͚̻͊̀j̷̫̣͎̿͂͐̌n̸͎̯̏͆͗a̶̠̅͐š̴͉̝̀̎d̶̬̼̲̽n̷̲͑̔ạ̵̉̚͝s̸͈̀̂j̴̠͇̜̝̀̊̇d̴̡͎͓͚̐̀̅̕l̵̜̜̻̯̎̓ä̷̢̩͍̔͘s̸̞͙͗d̶͖͗ľ̶̺̈́̅͝a̸̢̖̤̙͌͗s̸̝̞̊̇n̷͇̿́͗d̵͖̜͖͑̈̍ͅĺ̸͉a̵̭͊̊ͅș̸̡̓̓̎d̶̨̪͛͊̋͝n̷̖̩͆̌̏j̵͎̫̉́̎͂ả̵̮̬s̸̗̆ḅ̶̍d̷͚͇͈̓̎̿ͅ

WHAT DID YOU DO!

That is none of your business.

LISTEN HERE YOU DISGUSTING-

I believe you have a job to do.

Now say it with me, the elf king held the stump where his arm used to be.

.............................................................................................................................................................................................................

.....................................................................................................

.........................................................................The elf king held the stump where his arm used to be.

His entire body is covered in sweat and blood.

His breathing sporadic.

Ivasaar bits the inside of his cheek drawing blood.

He doesn't scream or groan.

......things learned at a young age can't be forgotten so easily... 

His eyes go once one more to the teddy bear.

A toy he received after learning pain endurance.

He hears footsteps as the man who called himself his mentor walks towards him.

The sound of his steps are cut short by a sound.

Plop!

The man in front of him drops his arm on the ground.

"you know what really annoys me about you one life span flesh bags"(Miracle man)

He takes a couple of steps and then crouches.

If he didn't have the veil on Ivasaar would be able to see his eyes.

"it's that you think your owed anything, that things were made for you, the things I made"(Miracle man)

He brings his face even closer.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't hate you, that would mean that you are worth something to me, you poorly crafted puppets are only useful for short amounts of time, it's why I pick my protégés wisely, even then I don't get too attached, there wasn't really any emotion in anything I did, in fact, there is only one way for you neonates to get a reaction out of me"(Miracle man)

Their faces are almost touching but he can't feel his breath.

"It's when you little shits actually think you can ever pay me back for my Miracles, let me tell you, even if you worked your entire miserable short life it still wouldn't be enough for one"(Miracle man)

Ivasaar head started to hurt, mainly because he had to force himself to breathe.

His ribs might be broken.

No, they are, he remembers this feeling.

His forced breaths are violent. 

For one second the veil gets brushed to side, revealing the man's face.

Ivasaar....doesn't see it....he's too focused on his eyes to see his face.

The man's blood red eyes seem to glow like the red sun.

They pierce through Ivasaar laying everything about him bare.

Revealing everything to the Miracle man

"Now let's do this one more time, this is what you're going to do......."(Miracle man)


Wow fifty chapter....I didn't think I would make it this far! I thought I would just give up and delete this like every other novel I started yet here I am!..........too bad I have nothing planned.....but hey!! this is another chance to shill my DISCORD!! --->https://discord.gg/2ambUbS come join I talk about the novel a lot.

like for example if you ever see a character with the word god in their name it means they embody some aspect of what people believe a god is, for example, The elder god embodies the passive nature of God where no matter what he won't interfere even if it means saving the world, which brings the question, if the elder god is the most passive thing ever than who is the most active?

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