The moment Ethan's words fell, Chris lunged straight for Vince.
Vince's heart jumped. He retreated fast, backing into the crowd behind him.
"Don't run," Chris called, almost cheerful. "My blade's quick. You won't even feel it."
Then his speed spiked without warning.
In the blink of an eye, he was already on Vince.
Vince's expression changed. His ability flared—silver armor flowed over his body like liquid metal. He raised his fist and drove a punch at Chris's head.
Chris slipped to the side.
His dagger flashed.
An arm spun up into the air, high and clean, like it had been tossed.
Everyone watching went wide-eyed.
It happened too fast. One second Vince was swinging, the next his arm was flying.
The Fallen Star Squad was seriously this overbearing? No warning, no negotiation—just straight-up dismemberment?
And not just anyone's arm, either.
It was Vince's.
The captain of the strongest squad in the compound.
