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... to run out the time. The sun hadn't gotten far up in the sky, but he only had until noon. He wanted to find the Direboar, or at least some other challenge... even getting ambushed would be better than wasting his time.

Then a whirlwind slammed into the ground in front of him and he regretted those thoughts.

For a moment he thought it was a living tornado, then he remembered to use his spiritual vision. That made clear the spinning bands of viridian mana, whipping the air into a ...

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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.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

……………………………………………………………

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