Three!

[Yeah, villain speech all you want, bud. He's slamming down on that button, trusting Rupert to do the same. He can't even look back to see if he actually did or not; if Ramuda's words about his prince got to him. He doesn't want to think if he just condemned to death Byleth's father and his dearest friend. They aren't really there. Only false versions, like Beauregard was. But he still can't look.

Instead, turning on Ramuda. He's still pressing his hand to his neck, which isn't bleeding freely but is sort of softly gurgling blood when he tries to speak. That's a problem, too. Nothing more useless than a wizard without a voice. So even if it's painful and feels like something is tearing, he's just going to spit out lowly -]

You're the one with something to fear.
No rhymes, I hear? Your world fading with a thin veneer?
Steal the face of a friend, a mother, a father.
Too bad, we still aren't going to bother.
You know, your voice is starting to grate.
So have another laugh about it while I cast disintegrate.