By the time Sylas realized it, the man was already right in front of him.
The other subordinates were slower to react, raising their guns at the intruder several seconds too late.
"…Stand down. Lower your weapons."
Sylas waved a hand dismissively, and the useless lot obeyed.
His cold eyes locked onto the unreadable ones before him.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, voice clipped.
The man—Georgio—beamed.
"Ragar's right arm, of course! Incinerating it to cover things up? That's so cold. If my cute master found out about it… he'd absolutely hate you, big brother."
"…There's no need to burden Rocco with news of the beastman's death."
"Hmm? But we don't even know for sure if Ragar is dead yet, do we?"
Sylas scowled.
Georgio, as usual, was unfazed.
His eerie smirk remained intact, unbothered by the irritation radiating off Sylas.
Another sigh escaped him.