"Listen, Zakriel!"
When he saw how uncooperative Zakriel was, Ricky gestured to Samel, making Samel somewhat anxious.
"It's not easy for us to come down here. We didn't just come here to talk about old times with you, but to—"
"Then don't waste time." Zakriel touched his own stubble and raised the small stone knife in his hand. He did not care about Samel's anxiety in the least. "Unless, you have a razor? This is a little blunt…"
Zakriel turned his head and looked at Ricky's waist. There was scorn in his gaze,
"Hey, is your sword good?"
Ricky snorted and pushed down on his uniquely shaped sword. He was filled with hostility.
At that moment...
"Here." Thales, who had been silent for a while, suddenly said, "A razor, for you."
As though he was performing a magic trick, the teenager took out a sheathed dagger from his shirt and pushed it in between the bars.
