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... emember now that I’ve come back here.”

Ian spoke looking around the gymnasium.

The sparring sessions that took place from the age 12 to 17.

As a result, Oliver enjoyed incredible advancements.

“I’ve been very busy. Of course, you were all the busier.”

“Yes, that’s true. Come to think of it, those 5 years that I helped with your training as a sparring partner, seemed to have been the off times.”

That was true. Hasn’t Ian’s 2nd life already turned in ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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