He was strange, but calling him strange was the least I could say. But other words I could come up with still didn't fit exactly right. Words like 'eccentric', 'odd', or 'bizarre', did not do his manner justice. "What are you waiting for, Asher? I witnessed you tear steel with your bare hands. Why are you still in this miserable cell? Let us go out, free, and liberate our fellow man." I demanded of him, but first, there was just one query: "How did they even manage to capture you?" I braced myself for once again another flood of gibberish from him as he started, "Well, I let myself get captured on purpose," he said. I said "Why?" in disbelief, not just to him, but in general. "Gods forbid, why would you ever do that? What's wrong with you? Who or what gave you the notion that it would be wise to allow oneself to be taken captive?" "It doesn't matter," I said after a little period of silence, during which I let the shock pass. "You wouldn't get very far even with that wondrous might

The old man with the opera mask next to me burst and his blood flew all around, splattering everyone except the violet-haired woman on the stage. She was completely untouched, even though she should have been covered the most. The man's face was the only thing that was unharmed. It was not twisted in pain, and it didn't appear as though suffering but rather astonishment marked his final moments. I knew who he was. Noufu, a governor and high-ranking member of the state. "Jesus Christ," the horse-man yelled, spitting out blood he had gotten in his mouth and losing the grace of his words as he had them before, "What the fuck, Faye." He cleaned off a few more chunks of flesh from his face but he did not seem very affected by it, just slightly annoyed, "you could have warned me and, to me, it looks like you traumatized some of the attendees. Imagine, THIS is what the characters in Gantz must have felt like and I must admit this feels a bit weird, seeing someone blow up. And there's no

Years after the Goddess of Redemption and Vindication Alexandra gave a young man named Cyrus a second chance at life, a group of gods had gathered as they were interested in learning more about the mortal's activities, now going by the name Asher Burell. They assembled around a big tablet that resembled a mirror in the Hall of History and, each at their own pace, scanned over the brief period of time that two decades were for the gods. Of course, several gods were taken aback, if only by the slightest margins, since the mortal Asher was, in fact, a very peculiar man. One of the most powerful gods, Therogrum, the God of War, Struggle, Conflict, and Honor, sat down on a throne that he created out of thin air. His ancient battle-weary armor, which was covered with scratches and chinks, clanged loudly enough to be heard throughout all the Halls of History.Alexandra, whose standing height did not quite reach his knees while seated, caught his attention as he gazed down at her from behin

I miss being a horse-man. The day after I left the slave-holdings, I was changed yet again. Faye thought it was a good thing. News of a horse-man and fox-woman who freed a lot of slaves in the country of Alaran as spreading quickly, and anyone who’d be looking for them wouldn’t be looking for who I was now which was just the average human guy. Slightly on the slimmer side with short, dark hair. The rest was average. Average, average, average, recently I began hating that word. It sucked, and I thought the way I looked now sucked too. When do I stop looking like your typical Shinji’s, Kirito’s, Kyon’s, and Oreki’s and start looking like a Kenshiro, Baki, Guts, or even any Jojo. ...Well, maybe not any. We could cap it at Part 4, actually. Araki’s style really changed over the years, never really went back to the ultra manly designs. Even Gappy was too… uh, ‘new araki’ for me. Flamboyant to say the least, but all of the characters did have interesting designs, at least

I wish my brother and I could have fought in the arena together, but he was definitely the stronger of the two of us. Heh, the disparity in strength was so great that I wouldn't even consider taking part in the arena competition and even though the fights are to the death, the rewards seem so much greater.Riches, fame, and a wish personally granted by King Drach himself. ... It doesn't matter, anyway. I couldn't register any longer. It would be held today, and if I were to change my mind right now, it would already be too late. At least I could wish him good luck. Taking a sip of the tea I ordered from a stall close to the Colosseum, I sat in quiet contemplation, enjoying the scenery, letting the sun hit my face and then again, taking another sip. Sadly, I have to imagine that some dreams will stay just that, dreams. In just a few short hours or so, Iadra is going to prove to the world that he is the strongest in all of Jento, maybe all of Castirin. Our family will then have to