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... This book was far from simple. Muria closed it and flipped it over. The back was smooth, and the author’s name was nowhere to be found.

“Swish!” Muria opened the book and turned to the second page. Her gaze danced over the faintly glowing low-level Magic Array.

After slight hesitation, she extended her finger and gently touched the weakest point of the crude Magic Array. With a “boom!”, it burst open, transforming into tiny specks of spirit light, and the second page became blank ...

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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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