"Now, now, relax. We were talking just fine. Why are you getting angry all of a sudden?" Adyr leaned back in his chair, calm and composed, his eyes resting on the Cannibal, who was beginning to unravel.
"You came into my home, killed my men, let my food stock escape, and now you're sitting in front of me with that smug face. I won't talk to you. I'll eat you."
The Cannibal shot to his feet, rage distorting his features.
"Well, you could've stopped me before I did all that. But you didn't. Aren't you just an idiot?" Adyr said with a low chuckle, never shifting from his seat.
That was the final crack.
All the effort the Cannibal had poured into this carefully crafted performance—the ambiance, the wine, the setting—shattered. And now, instead of being addressed as a genius or a mastermind, he was being called a fool.
"I will eat you alive. For days. For months. Piece by piece. I won't let you die easily."
