"How about it, shall we spare this fellow's life?" The axe blade shimmered with a cold, icy light.
As he spoke, he raised a foot and pressed it onto the Alchemist's chest, preventing him from standing up while ensuring he could kill him at any moment.
He had taken control of everything he could at that moment.
The question in his words was devoid of any human emotion, making it hard to imagine what he truly cared about.
And such a question was undoubtedly not directed at the Alchemist himself.
It was an important question concerning his own life—whether he could continue to live in the next few minutes.
But as far as he could perceive from all that was before him, it seemed that this was not within his purview, his crystal-clear understanding, and his natural right to control.
Thus, these also came to be seen as acceptable behaviors that no longer required any explanation.
