The Tomb of Albion, 40 floors.

Chloe's feet were entangled with magic, running desperately in the mist-filled mist.

There were wounds all over his body, and a hole in his shoulder the size of Moyo's baby's fist was bleeding.

Behind him, the sound of horses' hooves came like a furious and rapid drumbeat, mixed with the sound of whistling wind.

Wow!

Snorting snort, pouring out the heat of running, one

Chapter 33 of "The Fantasy Archetype Master of the Moon": Spirit Tomb, Centaur, Chloe is hitting with his hand, please wait a moment,

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