Three days later…
The scene in the pub was as lively as ever. Everyone was drinking, chatting like it was their last day on the planet. Analeis moved between the tables, wearing a tightly knit blouse and a skirt that the owner insisted she wear for the sake of smooth movement.
However, a kind patron showed her exactly what the skirt was for.
As she poured a drink for a particularly rowdy group, a hand slid under the skirt, but halfway through, his hand touched something… metallic.
"Get your weapons—"
He barely said those words before his head exploded. Chunks of his broken skull and brains fell into the chicken curry before his body slumped over the table.
"AH!"
Chaos erupted as people ran for their lives, knocking over chairs and tables.
With the genuine customers gone, only the staff and the Fangs were left behind. Pushing Analeis aside, a few men carefully walked over to the windows to check what was happening, their hands moving toward their weapons.
