Chapter 2: The Gray Gospel.
The moment Kael felt the cuts around his neck, he knew two things for sure.
One, Helga wasn’t playing around anymore. Two, he needed a damn weapon. Now.
Blood throbbed in his ears like war drums. His back ached from the slam, his lungs wheezed from the hit, and his poor, bloated, glorious ego was deeply offended.
Not because she’d attacked him. No, that was expected. But because she hadn’t even paused to admire the glorious god-tier abs he’d been reincarnated with.
Rude!
Kael rolled behind a half-rotted pillar just as Helga’s next kick split the floor where his chest had been.
Bam!
Dust exploded into the air. He scanned the surroundings once again—desperate, calculating.
A cracked weapons rack with no weapons. A half-burnt tapestry. A... flower vase?
Bingo.
He lunged for it. It was a hideous thing—pink, bulbous, probably stolen from some noble grandma’s garden party—but Kael didn’t hesitate.