The atmosphere thickened with tension as Linsley continued, "At this moment, my guns will only harm those who bear the greater sin."
Hearing those words, the villain scoffed, his confidence unshaken. His eyes hardened as he glanced at the hypocritical hero standing across from him.
He knew he wasn't innocent—far from it—but compared to that self-righteous pretender, his sins felt lighter. 'If I were judged against the average wasteborn, I'd die for sure,' he thought. 'But compared to him...'
On the other side, the so-called hero—his facade of calm cracking—began to tremble.
Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, his eyes darting to the ten thousand gleaming black guns hovering ominously in the air. Each one of those bullets held the weight of truth, a power far beyond any excuse or lie.
