"…Has Heaven's wrath finally struck you down and left you a cripple at last?"
BAM!
The sound tore through the air like a thunderclap.
"Damn it, what the—Ghhkk!!"
"Mind your manners in His Majesty's presence, you dog!"
"Hmm?"
It all happened so fast that Robin's eyes took a moment to catch up. In the span of a heartbeat, a young man was forced down beside him—both knees pressed into the floor, head bowed unwillingly. His mouth was stuffed with a dusty battle boot. Malik's boot.
Robin tilted his head ever so slightly, his expression one of mild curiosity rather than surprise. "Who are you? Do I know you?" His voice carried both strain and an unshakable authority.
"Khh—Khhgggh!!" The youth gagged and sputtered, trying to push himself up, but Malik's hand on the back of his neck was immovable, as if the First Squad Captain's grip were carved from the mountains themselves.
