Gunther leaned heavily back into the chair, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He had just finished writing a report of what happened during the hunting trip to King Frederick Von Arlow.
How could a wyvern break into a magical barrier and attack students?
All hell was about to break loose. It was only a matter of time.
Gunther took a swig of his whiskey straight out of the bottle. He was relieved that the kid made it out alive.
* * * *
12 years ago
Gunther brought his great sword down, slashing the arm off the troll in one swing. The beast snarled, spit flying from its ghastly pale greenish-blue face that was very potato-shaped and too small for its large and pudgy body.
The beast lifted its remaining arm, a spiked club in its meaty hand. Gunther called forth the wind element and wrapped it around his feet. With the help of the wind, his speed drastically increased and he was able to avoid the club.