Vance laughed—a sound that rang out like a church bell cracked in half.
"HAHAHHAA!! HAHAHAHA!"
His lips curled back in smug triumph, his eyes glinting with cruel delight as he pointed toward Vonjo, whose body trembled not from fear, but from something far more complicated—rage, perhaps, or the deep hum of rising power restrained beneath the surface.
Vance's voice rolled out, oily and laced with mockery.
"Look what you did, elder brother," Vance spat, stepping forward, his hands spread wide as if to present a great tragedy to the crowd. "Your fifth shot. Your mighty, arrogant fifth shot. And now? You've lost your right arm. Gone. Just like that—poof. Evaporated into dust and smoke. Your flesh scattered like ash in the wind. And why? Because of you. I told you not to shoot me, and now look what you did! Don't blame me now, elder brother, okay?"
