Tristan grabbed the large scissors and stepped closer to Cyn, his voice hoarse.
"I'll make you drink from the same cup I was forced to swallow! I won't just flay you—I'll toy with you in a hellish way. Something even worse than what you turned me into!"
Cyn mocked him, tension laced through his voice.
"Oooh, do you really have the guts? After everything you went through, I thought you'd embrace peace and forgiveness—start hating blood and violence."
His hoarse voice erupted in rage.
"Damn it—damn it! Don't talk! Aaaagh! I hate you, you monster! Monster, monster, monster! That's what you are! You turned me into you! I'll make you like me—deformed! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
Cyn watched the blade rushing toward him. He lost sight of its trajectory as it left his field of vision, but he knew exactly where it was headed—his neck, his Adam's apple. He shut his eyes, bracing himself, waiting for his throat to be pierced.
Nothing happened.
