Pittman couldn't speak, but his eyes saw it all with perfect clarity.
That crimson beam of sword light, carrying an all-rending power, shot straight for Alonso's forehead.
His heart nearly leaped out of his chest.
Joy!
Overwhelming joy!
'So Mr. Melfield had seen through it all!'
'He'd seen it all along—that this piece of trash from the Outer Plane, Alonso, was trouble!'
'He was just toying with him, toying with this garbage!'
'After all, trash from the Outer Planes exists solely for the entertainment of the Imperial People.'
Pittman wanted to laugh, to cheer, to point at Alonso's face and tell him he was finally getting what he deserved.
But he couldn't open his mouth.
That invisible force still had his throat sealed.
But it didn't matter.
His eyes, his expression, the way his body trembled—it all vividly expressed his inner ecstasy.
'Serves you right!'
'You totally deserve it!'
