Dungeon Maker

When I was 15-years-old, during the year that I graduated from middle school, my father told me this.

“The Devil’s blood runs in our family.”

That was the truth. Sadly my father was the owner of a takeaway chicken shop with the talent of turning his eyes blue, and I was the son of the takeaway shop who just happened to be slightly stronger than others.

But five years later.

They came for me.

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