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... them. However, if he were to weapons shaped by the mist, he could just barely cut through.

*Swoosh*

From spears, battle axes, maces to swords. Weapons of all kind were propelled at them.

But at the end of the day, it was all made of mist. As they came inches away from the group, they would instantly freeze as a result of Aurora's ability.

Such was the defense formation and forte they had managed to keep up. But at the same time, all they were doing was defending. ...

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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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