"He is dead!? Are you sure?" If an outsider saw this scene, they would pull out their eyeballs in disgust.
A hairy man with a big fat belly, hanging man-boobs, a black curly unshaved beard covered in food crumbs, and an unavoidable stench from his greasy hair—which was partially gone—making his head look like rotten bread.
He shoved a finger into his nose, which was leaking dark green liquid. He looked smugly at the handsome boy kneeling on the ground, jealous of his flowing black hair and bright golden eyes.
"Yes, Johan Von Matilda is dead. We can be sure of it." Leor spoke calmly, without looking up.
"Hah. As expected of that bastard. Of course he lost. I can have Selene all to myself. She's got the traits of Alya. Oh, sweet Alya, you can rest well. Your daughter is in good hands." He said, rubbing his big belly happily.
'Fat pig!' Leor cursed him under his breath, suppressing the urge to kill him now.
