Profa's and Joseph Bonanno's screams echoed through the chamber, making Mrs. Appaloosa's eyes snap open as she stared at everything before her in disbelief.
The bloody scene she had imagined did not appear. Instead, Profa and Joseph Bonanno had been hit by bullets, and now they could only hang suspended in midair by magic like lambs waiting for slaughter.
Though Profa's forehead was covered in cold sweat, he still roared in a vicious tone, "Who the hell are you?"
Joseph Bonanno's hands were bound by an invisible force, further tearing open the gunshot wound on his shoulder.
Agonizing pain kept surging from his shoulder, making the veins on his forehead bulge. The weightless feeling of hanging in midair made waves of dizziness wash over him.
Yet the ferocity he had developed over years of living on the edge still propped up his toughness. Gasping heavily, he said in broken bursts, "En... entertain guests..."
"Dear sir... of course I in... intended to entertain every guest... but you can... you can see it too... my shoulder..."
"With me and my friend in our current... current condition... I'm afraid... afraid we can't fulfill... fulfill the etiquette and... and obligations of a host..."
"Dear sir?" A faint smile appeared at the corner of Vizet's mouth. "Actually, you already entertained me earlier, and with quite a high standard of etiquette."
"I remember when I came calling, what greeted me were countless gun barrels and wands. Faced with such warm hospitality, of course I had to return the favor."
"Mr. Bonanno..." He looked at Joseph Bonanno. "What do you think of my return gift? This feeling of having both feet off the ground without the help of any tools—you probably haven't experienced it before, have you?"
Profa roared in anger, "How dare you talk like that!