MTL - You Don’t Understand The Pain Of Being Popular - Chapter 12 The twelfth day of the hit

When a person dies, they either die light as a feather (aka unimportant) or heavy as Mt. Tai (aka very important).

The smell of blood invaded my nostrils. I watched helplessly as the woman standing over me raised her sword. I was completely drained, I had no mana left, no items, nothing. As the crimson tendrils held me down by my arms and legs, all I could do was wait for my death.

As the sword drew near, I felt the last bit of courage I had disappear. I was going to die. Alone. In this god forsaken place filled with evil. And for what? To protect those ‘friends’? The same people who mocked me, took advantage of, and used me?

Oh, who am I trying to fool? I was here only because of my own greed. Because I wanted to be useful to someone. Because I wanted to that group to need me. To value me. To have a reason to keep me around. How naïve I was, thinking that power would grant those wishes. All it did was help build a wall between me and everyone else.

The sword approached. I saw the purple light reflect off the sword’s blade. After everything I went through, I hadn’t expected my death to be by the hands of another player. I saw her smile, but this time I didn’t think it was beautiful. It was an ugly smile because it was genuine. She was enjoying watching me die. She was enjoying killing me.

The sword struck my chest and pierced my heart. I let out a scream of pain and agony. The pain was so real, all of this was so real. It shouldn’t be, but it was. What should have been a simple game had become my new reality – all of our new reality. A reality filled with magic, war, blood, and death.

My vision darkened as the pain slowly faded. I felt the last of my vitality leave my body. It felt cold. I wondered to myself, when would I stop being? When would my thoughts disappear?

Soon, I saw those words I feared for all this time appear before me. “DEATH”, in the pale blue font the game always used. They remained suspended in the air for several seconds. It was over. After a long time of fighting, grinding, and exploring, it was finally over. I had died. This was the end of my story.

Suddenly, words before me shifted and changed into something different. I took a shallow breath as I heard a faint heartbeat.

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In North America, there are many paths to power and wealth. Hawke plunged into Los Angeles and chose the entertainment and media industry. The media is like the sun, not only showing the bright side. Every word and every picture that appears in the media is carefully designed to guide public opinion and manipulate the public.Unofficial translation of 洛杉矶之狼 by 白色十三号

This is probably the story of a modern man who became the Seventh son of Kangxi in the Qing Dynasty. This is probably the story of how the Seventh brother Yinyou worked hard and fell in love by the way. So there is no doubt that this article is ambiguous, and it is easy to guess who the couple is.

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