A lot happened in less than a week, and even with parallel thinking giving me room to process everything at once after some self-suggestion, like self-inflicted adrenatile to preemptively prompt the parallel thinking state—the stack of events still sat dense and heavy enough that I began to crave myself pausing over a cold cup of tea just to hold it all in reasonable order.
I still tasted the ozone and bone dust on my tongue from the moment I landed the killing blow on Veloce, the host of Sinful Greed.
She was a rather beautiful and divine-like demoness who didn't appear like a demoness at all—long silver hair that fell in straight, moonlit sheets down to the small of her back, smooth as polished starlight and fine enough to slip between fingers without catching, on top of being naturally tall at 189 centimeters in height.
