A Mysterious Report

A vein visibly twitched on Sylas's forehead, and Rocco broke into a cold sweat.

Why… why does Laxus always go all in with provoking Sylas even though he know fully well that he's going to get shot from him?

This wasn't just reckless—it was straight-up suicidal!

Seeing Sylas about to reach for his gun, Rocco quickly intervened, raising a hand in warning.

Nope! No shooting!

If they started fighting in the middle of such a peaceful city, the guards would be called in an instant!

"Laxus, you too! No badmouthing my big brother! You have to get along well!"

"It's my bad, Rocco. I just let my mouth run a little. I won't say anything bad anymore, so please forgive me."

Laxus drooped like a scolded puppy, his eyes pitiful and remorseful.

Faced with such an expression, Rocco could only sigh in defeat.

"Fine… I guess I'll let it slide."