The bloodshed was swift, each movement Alicarde made flowing with lethal grace, the result of countless battles.
Even before unlocking the power of his truename, Strigoi fell easily before him. Now, armed with his newfound strength, he moved at a speed that seemed to blur the lines between reality and illusion.
His sword glinted in the dim light, cutting through the air with the deadly grace of a whisper, before it silenced the Strigoi forever.
His violet eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, the madness flickering like a wild fire threatening to consume him.
The name Zagarath burned at the edge of his lips, a scream of rage and fury he longed to unleash.
But Alicarde gritted his teeth, suppressing the tidal wave of impulses that surged within him. There was no room for losing control, not now. Not with so many lives hanging in the balance.