Everything unfolded so swiftly that by the time Adam came to his senses, he found himself lying in a pool of his own blood, on the brink of death.
His eyes became heavy, and his consciousness faded into darkness.
"How unfortunate."
Mrs. Thompson's pitiful chuckle filled the air as she leaned over Adam's prone form and effortlessly snatched the key-shaped trinket from around his neck.
With a toss, she passed it to Sylvia, who tucked it away in her robe's inner pocket.
Though Mrs. Thompson was not even an elite, she was still a strong player, overwhelmingly stronger than the current protagonist, who still had not gotten many cheats and was not given time to grow up.
So it was natural that this would happen.
But…
Didn't I tell you?
The protagonist was almost immortal—he was the chosen one, favored by fate, loved by the world, and the sole apostle of a goddess.
Consequently, I knew the battle wasn't quite over yet.
