Dungeon Maker

When I was 15-years-old, during the year that I graduated from middle school, my father told me this. “The Devil’s blood runs in our family.” That was the truth. Sadly my father was the owner of a takeaway chicken shop with the talent of turning his eyes blue, and I was the son of the takeaway shop who just happened to be slightly stronger than others. But five years later. They came for me.