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He gave the man a hard poke in the chest while smoke wafted from the cigarette between his fingers, then leaned in with bloodlust radiating from every word hissed with his icy voice. “Notice that I haven’t asked your name yet, even though I gave you mine? It’s because you don’t have a name to me. To me, you’re just ‘Bitch’, the sniveling little Bitch who decided to come in here and ruin my evening, talking awfully big game for someone in skull-fucking range. That’s what’ll be engraved on your tombstone: ‘Here lies Bitch. Cause of death: got skull-fucked until his brains leaked out of his ears.’ Shit, I’ll carve the engraving myself. Now I suggest you get the fuck out before I use your eye sockets like a whore’s ass!”

“What are you so happy about?” Ingram asked. He was taller and older than Roc, with hair that fittingly resembled an owl’s plumage.

This wasn’t simply water magic; it was water magic and alchemy combined. Normally, alchemy couldn’t be applied to living tissue, as the mana produced by organisms interfered with the magic, but this potent combination allowed Phune’s magic to overcome that restriction. Noah couldn’t help but wonder where Phune had acquired such magic. Since it was written in his grimoire rather than an intuitive ability, either he figured out the formula himself, or someone else did. Whoever it was, did they have any idea what kind of threshold they were on? The surface they had just scratched?