Without warning I slam him down and step on the same wrist he almost used to pour in the powder with the heel of my shoes. The sharp edge goes through his limb right away. The man screams out loud in pain and the citizen that are standing close enough to her join him in cheers. I propel my feet left and right without removing my heel from his broken flesh, detaching the remaining sockets that are still persistently connected. His hand draws so much blood that it is enough to flow at where the filter is, joining the rest of the donor blood. He never stops screaming all the while.
I am about to deliver him to Gluttony and Wrath when I hear light footsteps approaching.
“As merciless as always, Crown Princess,” my cousin, Mauvet li Britannia, comments with mocking applauds as he comes nearer
