"Senior Sister, we agreed not to get angry, yet here you are deceiving me, not to mention I haven't finished speaking."
Facing Hat Senior Sister, who had leaped up and was showering down a rain of tentacles in an attempt to verbally barrage her with tens of thousands of words, Dorothy felt somewhat helpless.
Her long hair, which normally fell over her shoulders, began to move as well. Those strands, as soft as the night sky, now clenched into tiny fists, punching back at the torrential downpour of tentacles.
For a moment, tentacles and hair tangling fiercely, in just an instant they had collided countless times, the winds generated by their impact almost forming a storm.
In the center of that storm, Dorothy was gradually starting to falter.
Although her skills and perception could still keep up with the increasing speed of senior Fanny's tentacles, her physical endurance was nearly overwhelmed—after all, hair isn't like other parts of the body that can overclock.
