Then, without warning, Cail laughed.
The laugh didn't sound evil or scary.
It was something worse.
A laugh that sounded like it came from someone having the time of his life... But at this moment? This could be the worst possible moment.
"Wait—what are you—" Sellene's voice cracked, but the scream never came.
"Ugh," Cail muttered to himself. "This thing's corrupted. Guess there's only one way to get rid of the rotten spot from an apple…"
With impeccable precision, as if he had rehearsed this action a hundred times in his head... Or maybe he was experienced? But who knows... Cail slashed the blade down. Straight onto his own arm.
It wasn't a shallow cut. It was a crack followed by a dull, meaty thud as the blade cleaved through tendon, muscle, and bone. It was pure amputation.
Cail's arm fell to the ground like raw meat.
Blood sprayed out into the air.
