“Wait, wait, don’t kill me, don’t kil—”
Sen poked his hundredth demon in a row, a monstrous rat the size of a manling, crushing it between his claw and the ground below. Like an insect, the creature died without making a sound.
Nothing. No level, and no treasure.
With a growl of disappointment, Sen tossed the corpse on the pile of demon meat which had yet to be turned into undead. “I am out of sheep, Your Majesty,” Chocolatine informed him, who stood next to a second, bigger pile of slain cattle. “Do we move to pigs or children?”
“No,” Sen replied, bored to death. Even his chief of staff had asked for a break after the eightieth, and the dragon started to understand why. He couldn't take the tediousness of the process anymore.
Level grinding was no fun at all.
As if reading his maste
