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Chapter • 92

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Asmodeus ⋅• ♱

The red stone shone on that necklace and I stared at it with disgust.

"Fucking asshole..." I grumbled as I pulled one of my spell books close.

Calisto fucked my life even when I had no pretense.

I sighed heavily, my fingers slipped by the glowing stone that had been placed on the table by one of my numerous servants.

That ancient language was no different from the ancient language of any of the thousands of existing universes. It was a common tongue for someone like me, yet I joined the angry eyebrows.

"Why is it always so? Am? Why the hell do I have to go out collecting things and putting pieces together?" I grumbled looking at the ceiling "Why can’t it be, yes, salabim, revived!?"

A fragment of the soul of the one who wants to be resurrected, a coin willingly given by the boatman and when at last the remains lie on the first infernal tombstone - the being will return as an abyssal calf.

Grunhi.

"Damn all necromancers! Sadists! Idiots! Imbeciles!
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