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... g a defensive stance.

Six humans stand at the chamber's entrance. Each of them has a different class.

From left, their caster. She has long, straight, purple hair that is almost reaching down her thighs. She wears a brown robe that covers her body from her neck to her feet.

Next to her is their defender. He has a big body—about two times bigger than the average adult man, with two meters tall. He was wearing a dark gray full-plate armor along with his face, so his face wa ...

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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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