Happy Life
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- Well, that was easy! - Latro snapped his fingers and gave a dazzling smile. - I just took the "life" and re-soldered it here to change the way it's delivered into the bloodstream.
Having delivered this very important commentary to the audience, he once again assumed the pose of a thinker. Next up was the slot for darkness - although the engineer really liked "shadow," it had no real applications behind the wheel of a car. A different approach was needed here - something that would help in conducting fire.
Latro remembered their competitions, the problems he felt on the battlefield. But on the battlefield, he simply showered the enemy's locations with projectiles. Oh, it's a pity that they didn't manage to defeat Sapphiros with his thugs and make it to the final... These thoughts made him remember Ishiki. He vividly recalled his ugly face, nasty intonations, tasteless clothes, and disgusting minions, feeling with each second how anger boils inside him, and his hands clench into fists. He imagined himself standing over the bastard, holding a heavy cobblestone in both hands. Ishiki coughs up blood and instinctively raises his twisted, broken, trembling hand in front of him in an attempt to protect himself from the aggression. "P-please, buuuuueeeeee, kha-kha-kha, hrrr," he vomits blood all over himself. But these pitiful attempts do not stop Latro from forcefully slamming the cobblestone right on his head. And once more, and once more, and once more - each subsequent blow is stronger than the previous one.
- Well, now you're getting it... - Latro muttered, furiously drilling, sawing, and welding "Rage" - his second prototype.
Having delivered this very important commentary to the audience, he once again assumed the pose of a thinker. Next up was the slot for darkness - although the engineer really liked "shadow," it had no real applications behind the wheel of a car. A different approach was needed here - something that would help in conducting fire.
Latro remembered their competitions, the problems he felt on the battlefield. But on the battlefield, he simply showered the enemy's locations with projectiles. Oh, it's a pity that they didn't manage to defeat Sapphiros with his thugs and make it to the final... These thoughts made him remember Ishiki. He vividly recalled his ugly face, nasty intonations, tasteless clothes, and disgusting minions, feeling with each second how anger boils inside him, and his hands clench into fists. He imagined himself standing over the bastard, holding a heavy cobblestone in both hands. Ishiki coughs up blood and instinctively raises his twisted, broken, trembling hand in front of him in an attempt to protect himself from the aggression. "P-please, buuuuueeeeee, kha-kha-kha, hrrr," he vomits blood all over himself. But these pitiful attempts do not stop Latro from forcefully slamming the cobblestone right on his head. And once more, and once more, and once more - each subsequent blow is stronger than the previous one.
- Well, now you're getting it... - Latro muttered, furiously drilling, sawing, and welding "Rage" - his second prototype.
My sword, my trusted ally, unphased by my aspect.
