Daughter kneaded his shoulders. Poured the cold, dreadful Kundalini in him, which merged wonderfully into Dasha Pang. His gi and cloak were off. Direct palm to nape contact.
As he mentioned, her powers were very compatible with his.
Dasha decided to pose a question: "I killed a god, yet I did not receive a God Killer Class."
Daughter hummed. "God Killer? Of course there isn't. Seven War Classes and nearly a hundred other smaller classes, yet none of them pertain to divinity. None of them allow rebellion against divinity. It makes sense, no? The System can only make you so strong."
"So the Kingslayer was not granted such a class."
"No, not even him."
'Only makes you so strong,' he repeated in his head, 'you speak like you once possessed the System yourself, not as an outsider.'
The tinge of familiarity: it indicated one conclusion. Once upon a time, Daughter was a player.
"You're Egyptian," Dasha stated. "This castle must feel right at home."
