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... approach. The ruin of the shrine sprawled before them, flickering torchlight painting the hooded figures in hues of blood-orange.

Elara’s hand trembled faintly as she pressed it to the ground, immediately pouring more Mana into her ’Battle Map’ and getting a clearer understanding of their surroundings. Once she was done, she whispered,

"From Mana Traces, I sense exactly 67 of them. There might be more hiding inside the ruined catacombs however, so we need to be careful," She sai ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

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