Little Light Lord
[An Announcement from the Author: LLL will undergo major reformations! Expect a reboot of this confusing storyline sometime early January! Thank you for all of your support thus far.]
Gods rule over the fundamental creations of life.
Lords watch and rule over these Gods’ creations.
Phos, the Lord of Light, found himself cornered by a sharpshooter in the dead of the night. This unlikely encounter led to destiny.
—
The marksman needed to kill a kind, beautiful man.
From the photos, his target had crystalline orange eyes and glowing silver hair that cascaded down to the floor in waves. But, as with everything, the real man looked far more lucent and stunning. Like a soft light, like the first glimmer on the ocean’s surface as the Sun arose.
Before he could raise his sniper’s rifle to extinguish this ray of light, however, the beautiful target pulled out a pistol and shot him straight in the abdomen.
“I hope you don’t die. Good day.”
With that, he swiftly turned and left, disappearing into the darkness, his long hair bouncing to his every crisp footstep. Leaving behind the confused marksman, who, dazed, clutched his new wound and slumped to the floor.
Later on, the marksman managed to act stupid enough to gain his target’s trust. Showing his true colours, he toyed with a lock of his former victim’s hair, which was as silky and soft as he imagined. He held it to his lips, raised a corner of his black turtleneck to show the bulletwound on his abdomen, and whispered in a deep voice:
“This wound, how will you repay it?”
The original target, who shined like a dim candlelight under the rays of the moon, stretched up his bound arms to the hitman, brought a gentle hand to his skin, covered the wound… and with an unapologetic, professional business smile, he replied:
“I’m sorry, are you really sure you have a scar there? How come I don’t see anything?”
The marksman: …
It’s because you’re covering it.
The man he originally had to kill, who wore white silk pyjamas and a flame-like orange scarf every day and who looked like he could fall over with a slight push from the wind, was actually very resistant—and really, really pissed him off.
Cover Art: nonsang_08
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