"Who are you? Newcomers? Do you not know this room is only for high-ranking members?"
"I'll give you three seconds. Get out, or even if you're new, you'll die today!" the man roared, casually smashing the cup in his hand towards Vikram, who had just entered the room.
Before the cup hit the ground, Vikram caught it.
The commotion wasn't too loud yet; the man in the room had only shouted once and likely hadn't alerted other members.
He slowly closed the door, unexpectedly, the moment the man saw the door closed, a metal weapon materialized in his hand.
Judging by the cold gleam reflecting off its blade, it was clearly from the same source as the weapon which Brijbhushan used, both made of alloy.
"I wondered why some hothead would barge in. Turns out it's some little brat stirring up trouble in the Shelter."
"No wonder you are wearing such a foolish-looking hood."
"It's your bad luck to cross me. You barely survived the natural disaster, only to die by my hand."
