King of Shadows

Knowing that there is a destination far away but not being able to reach it was unbearable pain itself. It was like death for Cruwell to be blinded by such intense radiance that he could not see it again. That's why he wanted it.

"Sacrifices, tributes... somewhere."

If they can't go this way, they can seduce them, and his idea began with a tail. Cruwell sought a way to attract a sense of transcendent existence.

His mind, obsessed with madness, gradually crosses the line. There was no concept of stoppage or resection. What does that have to do with anything? What was important to Cruwell was the sovereign-prohibition to call transcendent existence, not the framework of the society that surrounded him.

But sadly, there were not that many admirations he could show for Lee Hyung's god. Cruwell instinctively knew that he could cut off his hand and pluck out both eyes if he needed to, but that wasn't enough to get his attention. At least an intact 'one' was needed to get even the slightest attention.

You hear a familiar voice in Crowell's ears, suffering.

"Dad, are you awake?"

Down in the basement of the mansion was Ravana Waitley, Cruwell's only daughter. She was practically my family and my only companion. All Cruwell had left was his wife.

"... sacrifice or tribute. Sacrifice or tribute. Sacrifice or tribute. Sacrifice or tribute."

Cruwell looks at Lavania with a haunted look on his face. Skin that is thin and weak enough to see white bleached hair and veins. The curved back and ugly appearance showed the abyss humans can reach.

Ravania was the product of a sin born to the Waitleys in pursuit of Mado. The brotherhood practiced under the idea of fulfilling Mado, came to fruition after her generation. In other words, there was also an explosion of a feisty person.

Her dentition was irregular and her skull was also uneven and crushed on one side. Not to mention not being able to see the sunlight, the barbarians never ceased. It was just into her mid-30s, but her skin was just as dull as it was in her 60s.

Of course, it wasn't just the skin that degraded abnormally. From the bones to the muscles to the senses, the body of Lavania ran towards death. It was faster to find what was there than to find what wasn't.

Cruwell also knew how imperfect Lavania was. He will, because he was taking care of her. I only took 30 medicines a day, so I didn't have to say any more.

Ravania must have been born uncomfortable and lived a humble life.

Technically, Cruwell had nothing to do with her misery-life. It was because he forced his sister-wife to succeed. Knowing the dangers of marriage and the social burdens, he hesitated to look at his children from his brother. It was the tradition and the truth of the Waitleys.

It was an ugly fact, but Cruwell felt no guilt towards Lavania. Born in the Waitley family, it was a blessing. I don't know if Lavania thinks differently, but at least that's what Cruwell thinks.

"We can use it."

"Dad?"

Cruwell's red eyes and gaze met a hollow smile somewhere. His sincerity and soul had worn off for a long time. In front of Lavania was the Waitley family's shaped monster, itself.

"It's nothing, Lavania. It's too late. Now go back to sleep. I have more work to do."

"Then I'll go. Don't overdo it. Go to bed early."

An ugly skeleton that no man can meet, a failed life that doesn't make one thing smooth. That was all Lavania could handle. But in spite of that, she didn't lose heart. My body rotted due to my inbred soul, but my soul lit up. But it seemed like a good story to Krewell.

Helps Mado, doesn't it? That was all that mattered to him.

Looking quietly back at Lavania's slow pace to the first floor, Cruwell developed a plan by rubbing his short shaved beard.

"I can't help it if I can reach it."

"Not just one, but..."

Cruwell turns his head to the sound of voices. There was a creature he had never seen before.

"Hello?"

In front of Crowell was a woman wearing a black umbrella. With dark hair like the night sky and dark eyes like the abyss, her presence alone was ominous, but her unconscious beauty was offsetting the ominous. The dress was fine enough to show the back and sternum, full of frills and ribbons.

Even though she was young to be considered a woman, and said that she was a girl, she was appealing to her sophistication and cuteness at the same time. Cruwell's glabella frowns, though she was a girl with devastating beauty with her eyes wide open. It was because I couldn't even sense when or where it came from.

The Waitleyn family, which deals with this area called Mado, had a crude but plausible system of defense. From the fence, the walls, and the sensing devices that encompassed the gates and gates were sensitive to small movements. It was virtually impossible to get inside without ever getting caught. 'Unless you have a special ability'.

"Who are you? Where the hell did they come from?"

A girl who reflects on Cruwell's words opens her mouth with a cheerful expression.

"Me? I'm everybody's idol, Alto. She's 156 centimeters tall and weighs less than a feather, which is obvious, but a three-size secret. The mind is made up of sugar and cotton candy and girls' dreams. I'm like liquorice, scattering fun and emotion all over the world."

The girl who introduced herself as she ran around, Alto posed with a smile. She turns her back to Creewell, revealing her charms so she can stand out. She claps her hands and says,

"Oh, I'm telling you, I'm not signing anything."

"I don't want to take it."

Cruwell scratches his scrawny head and sticks his tongue in Alto's footsteps. The appearance of an unsuspecting girl cast a new worry on him. He had no idea what she was.

As he approached the table in his natural movements, he opened the drawer and held the pistol in his hand. He turned his safety back and aimed a gun at Alto's temple. It was a flurry of sudden moves, but Alto flares his cheeks.

"Are you saying you won't sign it? Hah, this is why we have to be careful with the Death Fans. If he's any different from what he imagines, he gets excited and angry."

"What are you? If you say Idol again, I'll pull you back."

Cruwell growls as he raises his imagination, but Alto makes his move as if it were nothing. Soon after, she stood in front of a book with a peculiar radiance, shouting an unknown elasticity.

Alto shakes his head with an exaggerated gesture, handing over a piece of the Necronomycon. He looked like he had been staring at a monster or a ruin for a week.

"Wow. I've never seen you so confused. No matter how beautifully translated a book is, can you do research on it? It would be much easier to organize the psychology of the squid."

Cook, Alto covers his mouth with his hands, and Cruwell has no choice but to release the trigger for a moment. Only a handful of people know the value of the Necronomicon.

"... Sis, who are you?"

With a vague smile, Alto runs his finger through the Necronomicon in a gentle gesture.

"The original - Al Azif - in Arabic would be worth a look. Even if it's not, it's not bad to translate it into Latin. It was such a powerful language that it underpinned many languages and cultures. It's translated into Greek. Greek language with rich vocabulary and flexible sentence structure will be able to match the mold. But it's not English, is it?"

It was like a rebuke. He seemed to ask, why did you ruin the meaning like this? He seemed to blame me for spoiling the meaning like this. Cruwell's fur is thick with an unknown sense of pressure. I felt like I was being validated in front of a predator.

"Even the language chosen in the course of time is short and inefficient. Moreover, you have translated the book once again. Even if I wanted to see it in a familiar language, it's too much. It's not worth teaching me."

Alto snorts to see if he's upset. It was only then that Cruwell realized what was right in front of him. No, I realized that. Alto was evidence of Heman Mado's long-lost search. It was a transcendent being, or a corresponding creature.

"So you wrote the original - Al Azif -?"

"Oh, writing. He's a good joker.He gave me some advice."

Once again, Cruwell seems to be dizzy, slowly chewing Alto's words. Losing his center of gravity, he sits down like a chair. Until now, Cruwell has thought he is not perfect enough to understand the Necronomycon. But in reality, it was the opposite. The Necronomycon that led him from the beginning was not complete.

"So everything I've done has been for nothing? And now it's all for nothing? It was useless?"

Hundreds, no, a thousand years of marching. Cruwell, and not only that, the Waitley was entirely dependent on one area. But that's the end of it. Cruwell smiles.

"Mister, don't be so sad. I couldn't have seen the original anyway. Your ego would have collapsed before you understood it."

"... how can you be so sure?"

As Crowell bites his lip hard enough to bleed out, Alto smiles brightly.

"Like Mamihlapinatapai."

"What?"

"It's a subtle word that describes the quietly and urgently coming between two people who need each other to volunteer for something they don't want to do. I mean, I know it's obvious, but isn't nuance important?"

Alto strokes the Necronomicon.

"This book has a lot of abbreviations for the word Mamilapinafi. There are many concepts that the human mind cannot define. Concepts and concepts overlap, so even small words can completely corrupt meaning. But what about this book you have -- the Necronomycon?"

"... translated a manuscript."

"That's right. That's why I can't. Just because you're wandering through the house doesn't mean everything's gonna go smoothly, right?"

Cruwell was able to figure out what Alto wanted to say.

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Recommendation for National Power

Commendo National Power

1. How much do I recommend 200?

2. It is an engagement