Vonjo's gaze locked on Crizz like a predator sizing up an unworthy rival. Crizz's breathing was shallow, his shoulders tense, eyes darting to the ground as though searching for a hole to crawl into.
The air in the gate entrance was thick with awkward silence, the kind that seemed to press down on everyone's chests.
Then, without warning, Vonjo's voice cut through the stillness—confident, resonant, and carrying that unshakable cadence of someone who knew they owned the room.
"You all want to know why I should be the one teaching here?" Vonjo's tone wasn't pleading—it was declarative, like he was already delivering the verdict and they were simply catching up.
He jabbed a finger toward Crizz without even looking at him, as though the man wasn't worth his full attention.
"That? That trembling excuse for a teacher? He couldn't even tell you the safe routes through this territory if his life depended on it. Me? I know everything about it.
