Amidst the poison, Adam stood like an incarnation of certain death, his voice a judgment, and his mana the executioner's axe, ready to dismember them in atrocious sufferings.
The guard's teeth chattered, regret clawing at him. Although they were three dozen, a glance at his vomiting or suffocating companions was enough to know who held the absolute advantage. He had to defuse the time bomb he had engaged with his own foul mouth—and fast.
"Mana! It's mana!" He roared in answer, the stench sticking to his throat. "I'm a fool for refusing to listen. Please, let me apologise!"
"Want to listen now?" Adam approached, smiling menacingly. The guard paled as his poisonous mana followed, but he continued. "None of this was necessary. But at least you can admit your mistake."
"Please don't step closer!" The guard jumped back, prostrating and shuddering like a leaf.
