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I gripped the shovel real tight and slammed it hard against the ground.


Sweat trickled down as I panted heavily. My whole body felt heavy like a soaked sponge.


I glanced at my side towards the wagon filled with corpses. I was currently burying them underground. Anyone unfamiliar with this sight might think that they ran into a horrifying scene of mass murder. Regrettably, though, that wasn’t the case.


“Yup, being a gravekeeper is no picnic at all.”< ...

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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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