Volume 4 Chapter 11 Quest： The Thunder-Clad Bull ③
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
The fork in the road was always a choice between two paths.
One was a wrong path, ending abruptly in a dead end.
The other continued onward without obstruction.
There were never more than two options.
Most likely, that was the limit of the designer’s ability. Adding more than two false paths or creating a looping passage that circled back to the starting point would overcomplicate the labyrinth’s structure, making it prone to collapses in the ceiling or walls.
At some point, the labyrinth’s creator must have given up. Perhaps someone had ordered them to build this island maze, but they had decided it wasn’t worth pouring their life into making it difficult. So long as it looked like a labyrinth, it would do.
’Repeating two-choice forks makes a maze complex. Someone without the right path memorized would never choose correctly every time. You’re the strange one here, Kian,’ Talia’s voice murmured in his mind.
(Is that so? I’m not sure I follow.)
’You’ve barely ever gotten lost, haven’t you?’
(I’m still human. I get lost sometimes. But I’ve never lost to another scout-type adventurer when it comes to grasping a labyrinth’s structure.)
Even Oswald had once been surprised during the Lower-rank Adventurer’s Dungeon exam at Kian’s mapping ability, remarking he’d never seen someone navigate a labyrinth so decisively. Objectively, Kian’s mapping skills were considered high.
’I’d say inhuman.’
(Endorsed by an inhuman princess… Seems my fifteen years as a penniless adventurer weren’t wasted after all.)
”I just noticed,” Aliona said from behind him, where she’d been sketching a map of the labyrinth, “the corridor that had been sloping downwards this whole time is now completely level.”
”Considering the visible signs of alchemical reinforcement, I’d say this labyrinth was artificially constructed,” she added, glancing upward at the ceiling.
”You think so too, Ms. Aliona? I was beginning to suspect as much,” Kian replied.
”I’m certain of it now,” she said.
”As expected of you,” he said with an easy smile.
He kept to himself the fact that he’d been certain half an hour ago, the moment the floor leveled. Complimenting women was a habit—and a deliberate tactic—he had long since mastered.
’No wonder Linca’s so taken with you,’ Talia teased. ‘That girl’s pride runs high. Being praised by you must’ve satisfied both her ego and her need for approval.’
(Sarah told me to always compliment women… back when I was small.)
’…So she’s the one to blame.’
A distant rumble rolled through the air.
”Thunder,” Kian said aloud, cutting off his mental exchange with Talia. He turned his head to address the group. “There’s a wide space ahead—definitely not a dead end.”
”The magical power of the labyrinth’s master still feels a ways off,” Isthbaran said. “If it’s not a dead end, what sort of room awaits us?”
”Plenty to imagine,” Kian replied, leading them left at the fork.
After a short walk, a faint light appeared at the end of the straight corridor. It wasn’t blinding, but in the darkness it seemed moderately bright, occasionally flaring with greater intensity.
Lightning.
He guessed the room ahead had a hole in its ceiling, letting in light from outside. His guess proved correct. Drawn by the glow, the group quickened their pace until the passage opened abruptly into a massive chamber.
A cold, rain-laden wind blasted through the gap, striking their faces. The ceiling bore a wide, perfectly circular hole—likely carved deliberately—five or six meters in diameter.
The chamber itself spanned about twenty meters on each side.
For a moment, Kian’s mind drifted to a memory from childhood—when Umar’s dark elf aide, Demete, and Linca’s father had subjected him to “training.” They’d thrown him naked into the bottom of a well and left him there for an hour. He remembered looking up at a circle of light above, with his tormentors peering down at him, grinning.
(Unpleasant memory. The side effect of unlocking those sealed memories about Linca at the ancient temple north of Ramsey… Not something to think about during an adventure.)
”Kian?” Aliona’s voice broke his reverie.
”It’s nothing, Ms. Aliona,” he said.
”…If you say so,” she murmured, still watching him with faint concern.
A Leanan sídhe trotted past her and stepped into the beam of light at the room’s center.
”Death Fruit,” she said quietly.
”Indeed. And… human bones,” Isthbaran rumbled as he joined her.
The ground crunched beneath the old man’s feet—dry clattering and brittle snaps of what could only be bone.
In the circle of light lay a mound of white skeletons. Dark green parasitic vines wound through them, bearing clusters of enormous, sickly fluorescent-red strawberry-shaped fruits.
”A fruit adapted to this climate… drawing nourishment from human remains,” Isthbaran said, crouching before the poisonous growth. Being a wraith-class creature himself, he was highly resistant to toxins.
”Such plants often grow where nutrients are scarce,” he mused.
”Perhaps they dislike overly strong sunlight,” Kian suggested, crouching beside him.
”Or,” he continued, “like domestic cats, they may have survived to the present day because humans flourished alongside them.”
”What do you mean, my lord?” Isthbaran asked.
”In the era when the ancient manuscript Ms. Priscilla translated was written, the people may have cast bodies into the sea—but there were also public cemeteries. It wouldn’t be strange if ghouls or beasts fed on corpses in the Crete Archipelago back then.”
”True,” Aliona said. “Judging by Gaius’s habit of coating bodies in oil and casting them into the sea, cremation wasn’t common… and in this climate, the stench must have been awful.”
”To kill grave-robbing beasts or monsters, these fruits may have been left to grow—or even carefully guarded, enough to be recorded in ancient texts.”
Kian severed the stem of the ripest Death Fruit with his knife. Red juice sprayed out like blood, splattering his right hand. The smell was pungent and sharp.
”But once all bodies were consigned to the sea, there was no need to guard graves,” he continued. “The cemetery keepers of Crete likely wiped them out. That’s why we found none on Water Island or Grass Island.”
”A plausible theory,” Aliona agreed, glancing at his hand. His skin had already healed, his regeneration ability restoring it instantly.
”Far fresher than the earlier fruits. Should we harvest the lot?” the Leanan sídhe asked.
”My apologies, Ms. Leanan sídhe,” Kian said. “This must be troublesome for you.”
”Not at all. Though, if Lady Priscilla pays you for them, I’d appreciate a share,” she replied. “I was thinking—given the quality of slave my master wants, negotiations will be tough. Almost certainly a long-term battle. I’m not sure selling sugar alone will be enough to close the deal.”
”What kind of slave does Lady Camilla want?” Isthbaran asked.
”Oh, probably someone like Kian—muscular, overflowing with magic power like a high elf, and ruggedly handsome. She says it often enough that my ears could sprout calluses.”
”I’d say Kian is more wild than rugged,” Aliona said with a faint smile.
”I’m… handsome?” Kian asked, raising a brow.
’I’m not well-versed in the beauty standards of humans,’ Talia said evenly, ‘but that face is to my liking.’
”Uho—” Kian caught himself, clearing his throat. “Ahem. My apologies… I got a little too excited. Not like me at all.”
”It’s hard work, having a master as willful as mine.”
Leanan sídhe flexed the countless tendrils extending from her arms, deftly placing strange plants into a leather pouch. Though Aliona was immortal, she was still vulnerable to poison, so Kian had asked her to keep back, away from danger.
”However,” Isthbaran continued, glancing at Kian’s fingers, “judging by your injuries, this plant’s poison is dangerous enough to cause serious harm on contact. Are the Minotaurs really eating this?”
”They are,” Leanan sídhe replied in a flat tone. “They seem to have an organ that breaks down toxins.”
”In addition blue thunderstone attacks, there’s a possibility they can use poison as well. In the fight against the labyrinth’s master, Aliona, it might be better for you to stay back.”
”From the beginning,” Aliona said, “in close quarters like this, it’s your domain and Kian’s.”
Kian gave a short nod. “Right.”
He stood, sliding a newly-forged knife into the belt at his waist. “Let’s go. The source of this powerful magic power is close—and it’s probably already aware we’re coming.”
The pulsing waves of magic, which had been slow and steady like a heartbeat—thump… thump…—now quickened to a rapid thud-thud-thud-thud. Whoever awaited them was clearly anticipating battle. Kian found that to be more than acceptable.
Aliona retrieved what looked like a magic staff, but was in fact nothing more than a plain wooden stick.
Leanan sídhe tucked the pouch of harvested fruit into a pocket of dimensional space.
Kian took the lead, skirting around a mound of human bones toward the entrance of the next passage. A stray thought crossed his mind: perhaps the round hole in the ceiling above had been used to drop human meat—feed—into the room. But it was idle speculation, and he dismissed it immediately.
* * *
Beyond the bone room stretched the widest, straightest corridor they had yet seen. Blue light glimmered from countless blue thunderstone crystals clinging to the walls, ceiling, and floor like moss—a sight that would make anyone with trypophobia shudder. For Kian, it was simply convenient lighting.
From somewhere ahead and to the left came repeated cracks of thunder. The labyrinth’s master, radiating magic more powerfully than anything so far, seemed to be in the largest chamber yet—likely with holes in its ceiling, just like the previous room, letting in the storm outside.
A deep, fierce, inhuman roar—Uwoooooo!—echoed down the hall.
Isthbaran drew a large knife from his belt, his pale face lit with cold killing intent.
Kian unsheathed two knives, his lips curling into a smile of exhilaration. Adrenaline surged; this was why battle could never be given up.
The corridor ended. Shoulder to shoulder, Kian and Isthbaran stepped into the chamber to the left.
It was vast—at least fifty meters square—with a domed ceiling. Just as they had guessed, countless openings let in flashes of lightning like sunlight breaking through clouds.
The black stone floor was littered with enormous blue thunderstone crystals and strange golden chains that pulsed with ominous magic.
But their focus snapped to the giant standing in the center, atop a magic circle.
A white beast.
Two massive horns.
A towering, bipedal bull with crimson eyes staring unblinking at them.
A Minotaur.
A snow-white Minotaur.
Its red eyes reminded Kian of a rabbit’s—though nothing about it was gentle enough for such a comparison.
The white shadow carried an axe across its back. As it drew the weapon free, blue lightning erupted along the floor like spreading roots. The weapon, forged from blue thunderstone, was a thunder-axe.
It had the intelligence to use tools.
The beast snorted sharply. A burst of white breath curled like smoke around Kian’s and Isthbaran’s feet.
This one was leagues above the three Minotaurs they had slain earlier. Its presence radiated something almost sacred.
Its magic power might even surpass Isthbaran’s.
’Be careful,’ Talia warned, her voice emerging from a mouth that had opened along her arm. ‘The enemy is connected to the Spiritual Vein—it may regenerate infinitely.’
The white bull’s stance shifted—calm, deliberate, like that of a seasoned warrior.
Kian and Isthbaran’s minds clicked into work mode. They advanced, step by slow step, unfazed by the towering figure holding its axe motionless above its head.
Kian spun his two knives in a lazy flourish, right hand raised, left hanging loosely at his side.
No words were needed.
The three of them—Kian, Isthbaran, and the Minotaur—watched each other with the eyes of predators.
Their footsteps echoed across the chamber.
”—”
With a sudden push off the ground, Kian and Isthbaran vanished. It wasn’t anything supernatural to the eye—only the activation of the secret technique Shadow Pursuit, launching them into the bull’s reach in an instant. Isthbaran swung wide to circle behind.
Kian’s blade arced toward the Minotaur’s neck in a killing stroke—but the axe’s surface deflected it.
In the same instant, blue lightning surged across the bull’s body, and both arms dropped with staggering speed.
Unfazed, Kian drove his left-hand knife upward toward the beast’s abdomen. If the blade struck home, he would split it in two with the advanced Tear technique—an Azrael warrior monk method that deceived opponents about a weapon’s true lethality.
The thrust was batted aside by the Minotaur’s human-like hand. Balancing on one leg, it lashed out with a sweeping kick at Isthbaran’s approach—a kick wreathed in lightning.
Isthbaran’s eyes widened; he stopped dead a split-second before impact.
Even so, the electric discharge struck him, numbing his limbs.
(Impossible… It can follow our movements with its eyes!?)
In the fraction of a second that thought formed, the beast swung its axe twice, splitting the stone floor with each impact. Kian evaded the first strike with a backward lean, slipped under the second, and dove back in.
The Minotaur’s crimson eyes narrowed. Moving as though it had eyes in the back of its head, it evaded Isthbaran’s renewed attack while simultaneously creating distance from Kian.
Its body twisted like a soft-bodied creature, flipping into a handstand off its horns, then scissoring its legs in a spinning kick.
This time Isthbaran was ready—ducking mid-leap, he carved into the bull’s flank, slicing clean to the spine, and escaped the attack radius.
Kian, retreating in the same instant, hurled a black knife toward the Minotaur’s face. Like the beast, he threw from an inverted position—but used his foot, not his hand. The unpredictable angle buried the blade deep in its right eye, and with the warrior monk’s Blast technique, he shattered part of its skull.
Silence fell for a heartbeat.
The first exchange was over—only a probing skirmish. They knew the enemy could regenerate.
With light, measured steps, Kian and Isthbaran broke away, positioning themselves on either side to flank the beast again.
Isthbaran flicked blood from his blade; Kian forged another black knife from the stone floor.
The white Minotaur stood before them, its blasted face and torn abdomen already knitting back together. Muscle fibers wound tightly, pale skin sealing itself as though nothing had happened. It showed no sign of pain.
”Poison,” Kian muttered, his eyes flicking to the edge of his vision where his left arm still held a knife.
That was the arm the bull had struck earlier. The flesh there was blackened, scorched by the enemy’s blue lightning. Thick red clouds of toxic vapor billowed upward from the wound.
Pison lightning—if one could call it that. The foe’s lightning strikes carried lethal venom.
”Isthbaran, are you all right?” Kian asked sharply.
”No problem,” the old warrior replied, evading a sweeping attack from the bull’s hooves. But moments earlier, he too had been struck by its lightning. From the rearguard, Aliona’s healing magic had already surged through him, mending the damage instantly.
”I can take it,” Isthbaran said.
Without another word, Kian leapt forward, skimming low across the ground like a wraith, aiming for the bull’s ankles. His blade carved a swift arc—but the beast lifted its right leg to evade, swinging its axe toward Isthbaran instead.
Steel rang as Isthbaran deflected the blow. Rising with a fluid motion, Kian slashed both knives toward the joint where neck met shoulder—but the strikes met the bull’s glowing blue horns with a resounding clang, halted mid-swing.
The hooves rose. The horns lashed, sending a sharp counterattack toward both Kian and Isthbaran.
White afterimages blazed from the hooves; blue lightning streaks flashed from the horns. They dodged, gaining distance—only to launch into another charge. Isthbaran’s low, feral chuckle rumbled in his throat as they closed in from both sides.
The battle was heating up.
Warm-up was over.
Kian dove head-on, his body brimming with a tearing, explosive force. The bull’s great axe slammed down on his left shoulder. His inhuman muscle and bone held; the impact rattled his skull, lightning searing through his body. But the battle frenzy drowned the pain. With a roar, he rammed into the bull’s chest and sent it flying.
The massive body sailed through the air. Isthbaran met it with a kick that hurled it back again. In mid-leap, Kian’s body healed entirely—thanks to Aliona’s magic and his own regeneration—before he smashed an uppercut into the bull’s gut.
A shrill bellow tore from its throat at last.
(Finally, you make a sound, beast.)
The Minotaur hit the ceiling with a bone-jarring thud. As it fell, Isthbaran kicked it away once more.
Any normal creature would have been shredded to pieces. Yet the bull remained whole, crashing into a wall of blue lightning stone.
Isthbaran landed, while Kian paced forward beside him, knives ready.
”UBOAAAAAA!!!” The Minotaur’s roar thundered from where it had struck the wall, shaking the air like a thunderclap.
The blue lightning stones beneath their feet flared to life in answer, channeling streams of electricity into the white beast’s body. Its muscles swelled to twice their size. Smoke rose from its skin, and red light flashed beneath the pale flesh as though the muscle itself burned.
Lightning to enhance the body… and the poison to harden the skin.)
Interesting.
Kian’s lips curled upward.
In the same instant, both he and Isthbaran vanished from sight. The bull lunged, striking the ground with its pillar-like legs. The stone floor cracked like a spider’s web beneath the force. Blue lightning trailed in its wake, and scarlet poison mist jetted from its nostrils.
All three monsters met again at impossible speed.
The axe swung down with a deep, unnatural hum. This time, Kian caught it with a knife—knowing it would shatter. The blade broke, the lightning-imbued edge biting into his left shoulder.
Perfect.
The knife’s only purpose had been to bleed the force from the blow before his muscles and bones stopped it. The left side was already a sacrifice. Kian’s grin widened as he drove a savage counterpunch upward.
The strike caught the bull under the jaw, snapping its head back. Behind it, Isthbaran’s kick shattered its hip bone, forcing the beast to one knee.
In its red eyes flickered the glint of a cornered animal. Clutching its axe to shield itself, it wrapped massive arms across its chest.
From both front and back, the two unleashed a flurry—straight punches at a speed of twenty strikes per second, each one capable of obliterating stone.
A deafening DUGUDUGUDUGU pounded in their ears as bone and sinew burst apart.
The bull’s last desperate act was a massive discharge. Blue light blazed from its horns before they exploded in a blinding flash.
”…Tch.”
Kian winced, springing back. At the same time, Isthbaran clicked his tongue, landing lightly on the opposite side.
The released lightning force surged toward them, but the Leanan sídhe roses beneath their feet drank it into the earth. Even so, the air itself carried enough current to make their bodies seize and burn.
Any human would have died a hundred times over.
But these were no humans.
They were each alone capable of slaughtering hundreds—one the greatest magician of the age, the other a monstrous predator.
The white beast, wreathed in lightning, was still a godlike terror, more than capable of annihilating armies. It should have died several times already, yet remained standing—an immortal juggernaut of destruction.
And still, the party’s advantage held.
”Isthbaran,” Kian called calmly, black hair swept back in the storm’s fury, “when you see the opening, use the secret technique—Skyrend.”
He continued, “I’ll take its arms once it regenerates. You take the head.”
The warrior monk’s style fell away. In its place, he invoked full-body enhancement. His already massive frame swelled until he resembled a vampire lord.
”I’ll rip out its heart,” he added.
”Yes,” Isthbaran replied with a short nod.
”We finish this in the next exchange. Match me.”
For four months, they had fought side by side. Their rhythm was now sharper than even with Sarah or Linca.
They charged. The bull had discarded its axe, baring its fangs.
When they met, it was as if lightning itself had struck the earth sideways.
Shouts and roars overlapped, human and beast alike, while lightning and poison surged through their bodies. Aliona’s healing magic and their own regeneration waged war against the damage, keeping them in motion.
Kian’s fangs bared as he stamped down with his right foot. The rock split, cracks spidering outward just as they had under the bull’s steps.
”DOOOORYAAAAAA!!!”
The Minotaur’s eyes widened.
Kian overpowered it in the grapple, heaving it into the air despite the blood gushing from both arms.
”Secret Technique—”
Isthbaran’s magic power erupted, a white-silver conflagration that shattered the stone around him.
Skyrend.
His knife drew in the radiance, the old warrior raising it high with a cry, ready to strike.
The white bull was hurled into the air, unable to take evasive action in mid-flight, and was struck head-on by Isthbaran’s devastating Secret Technique, Skyrend, meant to obliterate a wide area.
A searing torrent engulfed the bull, melting his hide.
Isthbaran’s strike hit with such force that even the Windsong Blade seemed harmless in comparison. The labyrinth’s ceiling cracked and buckled under the impact.
The light that seared the bull’s flesh bored into the bedrock, carving a gaping hole. The dome-shaped ceiling splintered, sending massive stones crashing down.
”Bumooooooooo!” the bull bellowed, the sound guttural and deafening.
Yet the white bull still lived. His body—half-liquefied—was flung onto the rubble-strewn floor. Even as he rolled, he glowed a molten red, muscles knitting back together through supernatural regeneration.
Dropping to all fours, he turned his melted face toward Kian and Isthbaran. Blue lightning converged on his shattered knee, drawing magic power from the Spiritual Vein. Along the way, the blue thunderstone gave a strange, answering pulse.
With a thunderous thud, Kian launched forward, closing in on the regenerating bull.
He seized the creature’s shoulders and tore them apart. A wet, snapping sound followed, and blood burst from the bull’s severed arms.
”Gugyaaaaaa!” the bull shrieked.
(That’s almost human… what a strange one.)
The wail cut short as Isthbaran appeared behind him, summoning a blade of shimmering steel. With one swift motion, Isthbaran severed the bull’s head from behind.
Kian’s claws hardened with a sharp crack, and he plunged them into the bull’s chest.
The sound of ribs and muscle tearing—gush, crunch—filled the air. Heat and a tingling vibration met his fingers as he wrenched the still-beating heart free.
”Ms. Aliona, now,” Kian called.
He flung the blood-slick heart high behind him. Aliona, already waiting, cast a barrier spell around it. The heart’s pounding slowed instantly.
Even without a heart, the bull’s body still tried to draw magic from the Spiritual Vein, its torn arms and gaping chest struggling to knit shut.
Kian stomped down hard on both thighs—muscle and bone burst apart. The lower legs were quickly bound in tight vines by Leanan sídhe.
Isthbaran skewered both severed arms to the ground with a brutal thunk.
”Freeze,” Talia commanded.
Kian’s arms flared with magic power, an icy torrent surging out to encase the bull’s limbs, neck, and body. The unkillable creature was locked in solid frost.
Its regeneration stopped completely.
”We’ve sealed the heart. It’s still alive, but its perception of time is so slowed it can’t regenerate,” Aliona said, placing the crimson organ into a large jar and levitating it with magic. Without hesitation, she summoned a sandworm, letting it swallow the heart whole.
The frozen torso twitched once more before falling limp to the ground.
”Kian, new clothes,” Leanan sídhe said, handing him a folded garment.
”Thank you, Ms. Leanan sídhe,” he replied.
”My lord, any lingering poison effects?” she asked.
”None. Thanks to Ms. Aliona,” Kian said, pulling a white toga over his head.
The four of them gathered near the remains of the bull’s frozen body.
”Well done, everyone. That one was tough,” Aliona remarked.
”Yes. Poison and lightning… alone, I’d have struggled,” Kian admitted, glancing at Aliona and Leanan sídhe.
”I only kept antidote and healing magic on you,” Leanan sídhe said lightly. “Nothing more.”
’I only blocked his ranged lightning attacks,’ Talia added. ‘Though… I did let a few slip through.’
(That was more than enough. Because of that, I could wrestle the bull head-on.)
’Without Aliona and Leanan sídhe’s support, you’d have died two or three times,’ Talia muttered.
Kian tilted his head. “And what meaning is there in that hypothetical? They were here. And if things had gone badly, you would have handled it. I just trusted that and charged in.”
”A formidable foe indeed,” Isthbaran said, changing into a spare toga while examining the bull’s massive battle-axe. “Such fine craftsmanship… I wonder what he truly was.”
”Just another monster,” Leanan sídhe replied. “We should hand over the heart quickly. Even sealed, it could cause trouble—or at least the meat will spoil.”
”Agreed,” Isthbaran nodded.
”We leave now,” Kian said, glancing at the golden chains lining the chamber. “I’d like to harvest the blue thunderstone, but we saw what it can do—draining the Spiritual Vein to heal. I can’t say how long Aliona’s seal will hold.”
”True. Kian, you remember the way back? I need to focus on the barrier,” Aliona said.
”Of course,” Kian replied.
”As expected of you,” she said with a faint smile.
”Leanan sídhe, will you store the remains for our lord? I’ll carry the axe,” Isthbaran asked.
She nodded once. “Seeking strength, you’ll consume the beast’s flesh? Understood.”
”My apologies, Ms. Leanan sídhe,” Kian said.
”No problem. Just split Lady Priscilla’s reward with me later.”
”Naturally,” Kian agreed.
Leanan sídhe’s tendrils gathered the bull’s severed body parts. Isthbaran hefted the axe still crackling with blue lightning.
”Heavier than Balmung. Good. I’ll use this for now,” Isthbaran murmured.
”Everyone ready? Nothing left behind?” Aliona asked, already stepping into the corridor.
”Kian, lead,” she added.
”Understood.”
He dashed ahead, Isthbaran and Leanan sídhe following close behind.
It had all ended surprisingly quickly, but Kian knew the fight was on par with their battle against Oswald. With the giant sea serpent and their current roster, perhaps it only seemed easy.
Glasses had once warned him not to grow numb to death. If there was a lesson here, it was exactly that.
(I still have much to learn. No arrogance. Caution, always.)
With that vow, Kian led the way back through the path they had taken before.
Notes:
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
• Demete – A male dark elf shaman and a servant in the Umar household.
• Camilla – A woman; the subject of the chapter; her body was used to seal Erynys’ soul.
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
Leave a Reply