A kaleidoscope of colors swallowed him whole.
Baam lost all sense of direction—no floor, no ceiling, only that abstract turmoil of glimmers and lights, a chaos of hues that defied every known law of perception.
It was a wild dance of pure energy, both mesmerizing and suffocating.
His body was tossed about by the current, drifting helplessly in that anchorless space. It felt just like the moment he had first entered the Tower—except this time, he was enduring it in full, with flesh, bone, and breath.
By instinct, he cut off his Shinsu Reading before his senses could implode. Then, suddenly, his feet found solid ground.
He staggered, caught his balance, and lifted his gaze.
A breath escaped him.
Before him stretched a sea of gold—an endless field of tall grass swaying under a gentle breeze, rippling like waves of light. Each blade caught the sunlight, turning the landscape into something almost unreal. Here and there, jagged rocks jutted from the ground, giving the scene a raw, tangible texture.
Farther ahead—two kilometers, perhaps—low hills rose, dotted with clusters of weathered stone that any ordinary person could climb with ease. And within the golden grass, he sensed movement: other figures, like him, watching, waiting, hidden by the shimmering veil of the field.
The cool wind threaded through the stalks and brushed against his cheeks. Baam took a deep breath.
Even more beautiful than in the anime or the webtoon, he thought, letting out a low whistle of awe.
Had he not known what lurked behind such beauty, he might have mistaken it for paradise. But he knew better. This was no paradise.
This was the Second Floor.
The Floor of Test.
Evankhell's Hell.
And Hell was no metaphor.
This place had forged the Baam of the canon—broken him and rebuilt him anew. For him, it would become a cornerstone.
He stretched lightly, brushing the dust off his rumpled shirt. Resting against his shoulder was the Black March, its sleek blade glinting under the golden sunlight.
One step at a time, he thought, moving forward through the tall grass with deliberate calm. If I rush things… I'll end up like the original Baam—snatched up by FUG before I even realize it.
It wasn't recklessness. It was razor-sharp caution.
Every move, every breath had to be calculated—because here, a single mistake cost far more than life itself.
Then, a thunderous voice shattered the serene quiet.
"Mic test! Mic test!"
"One, two, three! It works!"
Baam looked up toward the false sky. Floating above the clouds, he spotted a small glowing yellow cube, pulsing with every word like a living loudspeaker.
Higher still, a colossal shape loomed through the mist—a massive artificial island, a fortress suspended in the heavens, built from dozens of interlocked structures. On its main façade blazed a gigantic crimson sign, impossible to miss:
EVANKHELL.
A dry, amused smile curved Baam's lips.
Tsk… I almost forgot. That bloodthirsty maniac really has the worst taste in design.
"Hello everyone!"
The voice burst through the air again — bright, energetic, the kind of tone you'd expect from a festival host rather than a death announcer.
"To all the Regulars who've just arrived, welcome to the Second Floor! It's also called the Floor of Test, because here, we hold the final trial to determine whether you're worthy of climbing the Tower!"
Baam almost chuckled.
Testing? No… this isn't a test. It's a cull. A filter. A neatly organized slaughterhouse.
His gaze hardened. He activated his Shinsu Reading — and the world blurred for an instant before exploding into waves of color, as if the emotions of hundreds of Regulars were flooding into his senses at once.
"And to start things off gently, here comes your first challenge! Think of it as a warm-up round!" the voice continued, still unnervingly cheerful. "Right now, there are 400 Regulars in this zone! The rule is simple — reduce that number to 200."
"The test begins now!"
The instant the words echoed, the Shinsu around Baam darkened — thick, metallic, brimming with rage and terror. A wild tide of energy.
Like a pack of starving dogs, he thought, his expression tightening as chaos erupted around him.
Screams. Blades drawn. Shadows leaping through the tall grass. The massacre began without hesitation — each person desperate to carve their survival from someone else's corpse.
So this is the true nature of the Tower.
You either kill to climb… or die and become a stepping stone for others.
This was only the Second Floor, and already the message was clear: ascension was nothing but a long, blood-soaked road.
But Baam was no fool. He understood — this world was far crueler, far more merciless than the one he had left behind.
Here, the weak had no right to exist among the strong.
And he was not weak.
No — he belonged to those who held power.
As he walked forward, calm and unhurried, the waves of Shinsu rippled quietly around him.
A faint rustle — barely audible — cut through the air. From the grass, a man lunged out, brandishing a double-edged sword, slashing toward Baam's blind spot.
Shaaa!
Clang!
The fatal strike vanished into nothingness. Baam didn't even turn his head. He lazily raised two fingers — and stopped the blade as if it were made of paper.
"Go play somewhere else, d*ckhead," he said flatly.
Panic flared in the man's eyes. He tried to wrench his sword free, but it was useless. Baam's fingers were like steel clamps — immovable, absolute.
Crack!
A slight twist of his wrist — and the blade snapped clean in two.
The attacker stumbled back, wide-eyed, terror written all over his face. He tried to regain his footing, to throw himself back into the fight—
—but he never got the chance.
Shing!
With chilling nonchalance, Baam spun the broken shard in his hand and, in a single swift motion, slashed the man's throat. His head dropped to the ground, his body collapsing in a heavy thud as dark blood soaked the soil beneath him.
Baam didn't spare him another glance.
He stood still, attuned to the slightest shift in the Shinsu flow.
Then — it came.
A new ripple. A whisper in the current. Something slicing through the air, humming faintly. Baam tilted his head.
Whoosh~
An arrow grazed his cheek — one heartbeat slower and it would have pierced him clean through.
His eyes lifted toward the source. Roughly five hundred meters away, atop a hill, stood a humanoid silhouette — a man with a drawn bow, a full quiver on his back.
The archer grinned, cruel and confident, as he nocked another arrow.
"Let's see how you—"
He never finished the sentence.
Whooosshh!
A glint of steel shot across the air, piercing his chest before he could even release the string. His heart exploded on impact. He dropped instantly, blood spilling down his chin, dead before he understood what had happened.
Baam sighed, a vein throbbing slightly at his temple.
Didn't you see how fast that big idiot died? Why rush to your own death? he thought irritably. Has the greed to climb erased all sense of danger in these Regulars?
He had thrown the broken shard of steel — precisely, instinctively. Seeing and striking through the Shinsu was second nature to him now.
Brutal? Perhaps. But Baam was no stranger to killing.
In his previous life, his hands had already been stained with blood — not out of pride or glory, but necessity. He wasn't a killer, nor a soldier, nor a monster. Just an orphan from the slums, forced to survive in a world where poverty drove people past every moral line.
Nothing heroic. Nothing impressive. Just a dirty, ordinary past steeped in shadow.
His gaze turned toward the horizon. The Shinsu, once turbulent, was settling again. The air still reeked faintly of iron and blood.
His expression hardened.
Here, everyone is ready to kill.
In the Tower, murder wasn't an aberration — it was a rule. A silent condition for those who wished to ascend.
But Baam would not yield to this logic of mindless carnage. He wasn't one of those who took pleasure in slaughter. If another path existed, he would find it.
That was his code — a moral forged by his own will, one that no one could take from him.
Snapping out of his reverie, Baam summoned his Pocket. The translucent orb shimmered to life beside him, projecting a stream of shifting numbers.
[357… 344… 333…]
The count kept falling.
Each disappearance was just another number erased from the screen. Here, a life was nothing more than a statistic — a name crossed off, a failure erased by the Tower's cruel design.
Baam closed the Pocket silently.
In truth, he didn't even need it. His Shinsu Reading alone granted him perfect awareness — within a radius of over a kilometer, he could sense every living being, every breath, every fluctuation of energy.
He often compared this clarity to something else — a memory imported from a world that should never have intersected with this one.
Seeing a person's mental and physical state through colors… It's far too similar to Spirit Vision from Lord of Mysteries, he mused, hands laced behind his head as he strolled lazily through the tall grass.
It was a disturbing resemblance. And yet, there shouldn't have been any connection between the two.
Tower of God and Lord of Mysteries existed in entirely separate realities, governed by different laws and power systems.
Here, there was no Ether Body, no Astral Projection, no trace of the Spirituality used by the Beyonders.
And yet… he saw.
As if he'd inherited, somehow, a gift that didn't belong to this universe.
Is it the System? he wondered, his brow furrowing. Or did the God of Shinsu's Attribute unconsciously grant me a power that doesn't exist here?
Shinsu could do anything — shape matter, strength, desire. So why not… imitate the gifts of anothers worlds?
The logic almost made sense. Almost. Because one detail shattered the theory.
Corruption.
He had nearly lost his life the moment he dared to observe Headon through that pseudo–Spirit Vision.
That memory was burned into him, branded in terror.
Since then, he no longer dared to extend his Shinsu Reading too far — afraid his gaze might, by accident, cross paths with a being of a higher order… and drag him once again into that unspeakable horror.
A danger that felt less like something from Tower of God and more like straight out of Lovecraft.
And yet… it was all too real.
Maybe the 'Divinity' function in the System has something to do with it… his mind whispered, darkly.
He didn't like that thought.
Not one bit.
Because if his suspicions were right…
Then this Tower wasn't merely a variant of the original.
It was something else.
And whatever lay hidden in its depths… terrified him.
After long, silent seconds lost in the whirlpool of his thoughts, Baam finally sighed.
No matter how much I think about it, I can't find a clear answer… he muttered, spitting to the ground in frustration. The only way to get answers might be to actually reach 'Divinity,' like that damn System keeps saying… but how?
He seriously doubted it worked like the Beyonders' Pathways — advancing through Sequences with potions and complex rituals. That kind of method belonged only to the LoTM verse, and he knew that trying something like it here would be suicide.
Clearly, he was lost.
And he hated that.
He'd always despised puzzles that were too convoluted for their own good.
Guess I'll just have to wait until the System throws me a quest that sheds some light on this mess… he thought with resignation. Besides, Spirit Vision's already broken as hell in this world. If I can manage to refine it, I might even reach a form of divination… maybe something sharper than the Guides themselves."
A spark of excitement flickered in his eyes.
But it died as quickly as it came — crushed by sudden realization.
Sh*t… I'm not even sure there's a Spirit World here…
Then, out of nowhere, a blue window popped up in front of him.
His eyes lit up — was the System finally showing some mercy?
[Host, stop expecting to become invincible right off the bat thanks to me. I'm here to guide your efforts, not to babysit you.]
[So move your ass and reach Divinity if you want more information.]
Silence.
Then a vein pulsed on Baam's temple. His usually calm, almost boyish face twisted into a snarl.
"YOU SON OF A B*TCH! ARE YOU SCREWING WITH ME RIGHT NOW?! I HOPE SOMEONE HACKS YOUR CODE, YOU PIECE OF SH*T!" he roared, shaking the System window violently as if trying to throttle it.
The System had just rage-baited him with masterful precision.
Luckily for Baam, no one was around to witness the scene.
Otherwise, they would have simply assumed he'd gone mad — a lunatic arguing with an imaginary friend.
.
.
.
Several minutes had passed, and the battlefield had sunk into an ever-deepening chaos.
The 25th Baam now found himself in another confrontation—if it could even be called a fight.
In truth, it was already over.
He held in his hand a grotesque creature over two meters tall, its body misshapen and eyeless, its face nothing but a gaping maw bristling with jagged teeth. The abomination struggled weakly, strangled in the boy's grip. A gaping wound split its abdomen, spilling dark blood that dripped down into its mouth.
Without a word, Baam tossed the monster aside like garbage.
The lifeless body crashed into the grass beside three other dead Regulars.
Only one remained.
A Regular sprawled on the ground, still breathing, staring in horror. Fear strangled his voice, his legs trembling uncontrollably, his clothes soaked with sweat. In his dilated pupils flickered the golden light of Baam's gaze—a cold, merciless glare that seemed to pierce straight through his soul.
He instantly regretted the insane idea of ambushing this… monster.
"Y-You… demon! You killed them all!" he stammered, voice breaking—more pleading than accusing.
Baam, absently wiping the blood from his hands, turned toward him. His tone was eerily calm:
"Did you forget this test allows killing by any means? The funny thing is, I wasn't even the one who attacked first. It was you idiots who thought you could catch me off guard."
A dry, hollow chuckle escaped his lips.
"And you failed miserably."
He vanished from his spot—then reappeared in front of the Regular before the latter could even blink. Baam's leg rose, poised to strike.
His voice fell like a cold sentence:
"I don't like killing. But you leave me no choice. So blame yourself. Blame your team… blame your weakness."
Bam!
His foot came crashing down upon the man's chest with ruthless force. The Regular's heart gave out instantly.
That was the last sound he ever heard.
Baam slowly pulled his foot free from the crushed ribcage. The blood that splattered was instantly erased by a faint ripple of Shinsu control, leaving not a single stain. Without a backward glance, he continued on his way.
Counting them all, he had already encountered twenty Regulars—and twenty had died.
Every single one had come for his head.
He could have spared them, honestly—
if only they had chosen to back down. But none had.
All of them provoked him.
All of them tried.
And all of them failed.
The last group had even banded together for survival—a logical, almost intelligent move. Yet their first instinct had been to attack him. The result: a pointless, meaningless death.
He sighed inwardly. Not his problem anymore.
A gentle breeze stirred his chestnut hair as his thoughts drifted. Before long, he reached a quiet clearing, far from the sounds of battle. No blood. No screams. No hostility. A cradle of silence—perfect for catching his breath and waiting for this absurd test to end.
Then, a rustle echoed from his right.
Rustle ~ Rustle~
Rustle ~ Rustle~
The tall grass parted to reveal a massive silhouette.
It was a colossus that could barely be called human. Two arms, two legs, a head, a mouth—but no hair. On its smooth, gray skull, countless eyes were arranged in a perfect horizontal ring.
The creature froze upon seeing him. It stared silently.
The air grew heavy, but Baam didn't move. Despite its enormous size and raw power, the giant exuded no killing intent—only a cautious stillness, as if it were quietly assessing the boy before it.
A Da-An… if I'm not mistaken, Baam thought. A common race in the Tower. Supposedly peaceful, according to Khun.
At that memory, a faint smile curved the Irregular's lips.
He was nearing the moment he would meet the one destined to become his greatest ally: Khun Aguero Agnis.
The thought of meeting one of his favorite characters in the flesh was both thrilling and unsettling. Would someone as cunning as Khun still choose to befriend him? After all, he was nothing like the original Baam—his innocence long gone.
Well… we'll see when the time comes.
With a casual shrug, he walked right up to the Da-An and sat cross-legged before it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The creature blinked its many eyes in confusion but didn't react. As long as Baam posed no threat, it saw no reason to move—even if the boy seemed far too comfortable treating it like a convenient backrest.
After a few quiet seconds, Baam let out a long sigh, his eyelids lowering.
It wasn't fatigue that weighed him down—but the sheer weight of everything he'd endured.
He needed to clear his thoughts, or he'd lose himself.
Think coldly. Plan carefully.
He needed to find a way to outmaneuver the Tower's darkest organization—FUG.
He refused to be molded into a false god, manipulated like a docile weapon and used at their whim.
Unfortunately, he already suspected that his existence had been exposed by Headon, just as in the original story. So much for staying low-key—or pretending to be a nameless Regular. That idea was already in the trash.
Maybe I should hide my strength as much as possible… he thought, resting the Black March across his knees, exhaling slowly. On the surface, it won't matter—Headon or Rachel will probably report my one-sided win against the White Steel Eels anyway. But even so, I doubt FUG will care. To them, that's just the bare minimum expected from an Irregular. They might see me differently… but certainly not as weak as the original Baam.
That conclusion made his jaw tighten.
Even if he refused their control, FUG would have no trouble handling him.
In the end, he'd only slain a few eels—insignificant creatures, mere small fry to them.
Baam doubted he could even stand against a low-level Ranker.
As for the Chief Examiner… he had to admit, bitterly, that he'd be nothing more than easy prey.
Even with the System's help, he couldn't imagine reaching High Ranker strength in such a short time—not before this Floor was over.
More than anything, the System would no longer hand him free gifts. From now on, he would have to fend for himself—prove his worth, earn every favor from that supposedly omniscient software.
He had no choice but to walk the clearest, and most unbearable, path of all.
To become the pawn everyone wanted to capture.
The Slayer Candidate.
The toy under constant surveillance.
Yes, it was infuriating.
Yes, it was deeply frustrating.
That anger burned in his chest, but Baam knew he couldn't yet challenge that damned organization head-on.
Without resistance? Never, he vowed silently.
He would hide his progress. Conceal his strength, mask his growth. Stay quiet enough that FUG wouldn't raise its guard too soon—or cripple his plans before he was ready to act.
And then he swore, coldly:
When the time comes… I'll kill you all. Every last one of you.
The words seared through his thoughts, his eyes blazing with grim determination. Then, as if to steady the storm inside, he took a breath and forced a tight, bitter smile.
Why am I getting this worked up over something I haven't even faced yet? he muttered, almost sheepishly.
He sighed once more—it was time to get to the heart of things. There was one question he absolutely needed to answer.
System, display all functions accessible at my current level.
The request lingered in the air for a heartbeat before a blue-hued window opened before him, its glow reflecting against his face.
[Status: Displays your profile and current level.
—Inventory: Grants access to a pocket dimension, a near-infinite space capable of holding any non-living object.
—Shop: Store for tradeable items, artifacts, and weapons, purchasable with Tower currency.
—Gacha: Divine distributor that dispenses random items of varying types and ranks.
—Quests: List of missions to complete.]
[Due to insufficient Divinity, most functions remain sealed.]
Baam scanned the list, his expression a mix of interest and irritation—the recurring phrase "insufficient Divinity" kept flashing like an annoying reminder.
Then his gaze stopped on the one feature that caught his curiosity the most.
Inventory, he thought instinctively.
The window shifted. A dark, minimalist grid appeared before him, filled with empty white squares neatly arranged in rows—the visible slots of his virtual storage. At the center, one square stood out: empty, yet marked with a tiny icon—an needle.
He immediately understood: the replica of the Black March.
He narrowed his eyes, still puzzled as to why he had received that object as a reward. But that wasn't the point. The inventory itself could prove invaluable: unlimited storage, immunity to theft of rare items, and a perfect hiding spot for sensitive weapons.
If I put the Black March in here, will it cause any kind of entropy backlash? he wondered. Best not to provoke Anaak by accident, even if she posed no real threat to him.
Without further thought, he brought the needle closer to the glowing interface. The weapon's form shimmered—then vanished, absorbed into the screen. A black icon appeared in the dedicated slot: the stylized mark of the needle now embedded there. The Black March was safely stored, tucked away within his dimensional inventory.
Baam closed the window, his gaze hardening.
He no longer had the luxury of distraction. It was time to focus on what truly mattered.
He drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly to center his thoughts, and spoke the next command with instinctive calm:
Status.
The word had barely left his lips before the interface responded. Before him, glowing glyphs—like living runes—began to assemble, forming a brighter, almost breathing window. It felt… aware.
Baam blinked. The text appeared. He read—and his face went still.
[Name: 25ᵗʰ Baam / ??????.
—True Name:-
—Titles: [Irregular], [Child of Prophecy], [Aberration].
—Rank: Dormant .
—Digestion: 20%.
—Items: [Black March], [Replica of the Black March], [Pocket].
—Attributes: [God of Shinsu], [Flame of Divinity], [Divine Vessel], [??????], [??????], [??????].
—Aspect:-
—Aspect Rank:-
—Aspect Description:-
—Aspect Ability:-
—Aspect Ability Description:-
—Skills: [Shinsu Manipulation], [Shinsu Reading], [Orb]. ]
He stood frozen, muscles tight, unable to muster anything beyond sheer disbelief.
The lines flickered before him—both familiar and alien—each one heavier than the last.
Was this some kind of joke?
A glitch in the System?
An illusion carefully crafted to mess with his head?
He shook his head lightly, exasperated.
First it was Lord of Mysteries... he muttered, a nervous half-smile tugging at his lips. And now it's Shadow Slave? What the hell is going on… Is the System trying to create a multiversal crossover? Might as well throw Reverend Insanity into the mix while it's at it…
The idea was ridiculous—and yet disturbingly plausible.
A System that recycled fragments from other worlds…
That was exactly the kind of cosmic irony this cursed thing would delight in.
His thoughts were abruptly cut short by a voice.
Soft. Clear. Feminine.
It sliced through the silence like a shard of glass falling into water.
"Bold of you to sit so calmly in the middle of a test."
Baam flinched. Startled, he turned sharply toward the source of the unfamiliar voice.
He'd been so immersed in the System interface that he hadn't even noticed the ripples in the Shinsu—the telltale signs of an approaching presence. A grave mistake. One that, under different circumstances, could have cost him his life.
He expected to see some random Regular, an annoyance looking to provoke him. But the instant his eyes met hers, he froze—completely.
Standing before him was a young woman of breathtaking beauty.
Her long, pale-blue hair, tied into an elegant ponytail, flowed down her back like a stream of clear water. A dark blue ribbon was fastened to one side of her head, highlighting the vivid sapphire gleam of her eyes. Her face—delicate, pale, and refined—radiated an ethereal grace that could have silenced a battlefield.
She wore a navy-blue blazer over a fitted white shirt, the black tie neatly knotted at her collar. A discreet yet precious necklace rested against her neck, and a brown skirt draped elegantly over her black stockings. In one hand, she carried a small brown briefcase, dangling casually by her side.
Head tilted slightly, a wry, almost playful smile curled her rose-colored lips. Her blue eyes met the gold in Baam's—and within them, he saw calm curiosity. Maybe even amusement.
She was, without a doubt, stunning. But that wasn't what left him paralyzed.
No. It was her.
The Irregular blinked several times, even rubbed his eyes, half-expecting the vision to fade. But when he looked again, the young woman was still there—though she now seemed faintly puzzled by his reaction.
You're… deadass right now?! he thought, his mind blanking so hard it only spat out nonsense.
This has to be an illusion. No way. Yeah, definitely Nightmare Spell 2.0 messing with me. That's gotta be it.
After several seconds of silent existential panic, Baam finally forced himself to speak—awkwardly.
"Uh… do you happen to have a brother?"
.
.
.
…Meanwhile.
Far—very far—from where Baam stood, the wind howled across the edge of a steep cliff. From that height, one could see everything: a vast plain stretching below, an ocean of dust, screams, and battle.
At the cliff's edge, a solitary figure stood silhouetted against the dim light.
A massive creature, broad-shouldered and beastlike in posture, watched the chaos below.
Its scarlet eyes burned like twin embers, tracking every movement, every flicker of Shinsu.
It was a hunter.
And below, that crowded field of Regulars was nothing more than a wide, open hunting ground.
Its gaze drifted slowly across the melee.
Dozens—hundreds—of prey scurried about, fighting, fleeing, dying. Some were promising, even intriguing… yet none of them stirred the primal hunger growling deep within its gut.
No. It wanted something else.
Something stronger.
Something dangerous.
Then its gaze locked onto a distant presence—a small green-skinned girl whose aura pulsed with unsettling intensity. For a moment, a predatory grin stretched across its face.
But then it hesitated. Even it knew how to recognize a prey too risky to touch.
Hm… this might be harder than I thought.
It turned away, ready to abandon the hunt for now—when a chill rippled down its spine.
An instinct. Primal. Absolute.
Every muscle in its scaled body went taut.
It felt it—something.
An aura. Dense. Heavy. Different.
Its gaze swung in the direction of that raw, overwhelming power—and as it did, a slow, feral smile spread across its face.
Its eyes glowed a deeper red—nearly blood-colored.
…Something similar… over there, it thought, a wild gleam flashing in its gaze.
Then, with a guttural laugh, it bared its fangs.
Found you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....
Don't throw stones at me for what I just did to Khun, population !
…Actually, go ahead, throw me some power stones instead!
Anyway, here's a new chapter for this week! It's a bit shorter than usual, but I hope you'll still enjoy it.
Oh, and about the gender swap for Khun—yeah… I'll admit, I completely messed up this time. I said to myself, "Why not make her a woman?"
XD
Honestly, it's probably because I've always found Baam and Khun's relationship in the canon a bit… ambiguous. And I kinda got tired of seeing so many fans shipping them when, in reality, they see each other more like brothers.
Although… 👀
I know Khun is probably gay, but I have no proof...
Anyway, to reassure everyone: this will be the only genderbend in this fanfic. I want to keep the story coherent, not make a big mess of it.
Now, about Baam's status and future abilities—even though you might notice some similarities with Shadow Slave or Lord of the Mysteries, let me make this clear: this fanfic is NOT a crossover with those two works.
The MC's ascent toward divinity may share a few structural parallels with those stories, but I'll be developing it in my own way.
So no, don't expect Klein or Sunny to show up in the Tower…
(Though, knowing me, I might sneak in a few cheeky references 👀)
That's all for now!
Hope you enjoyed the chapter — ciao ;)
4,587 words