A Final Task
Turai and Gareth moved through the rugged terrain like phantoms, their swords slicing through the night air. The cries of their enemies rang out as they cut a bloody path toward the starting point.
Every strike was deliberate, every kill clean and efficient. With the remaining forces of the Lehzin Empire scattered and in disarray, it felt less like a battle and more like a grim harvest.
Gareth's booming laughter echoed as he felled one warrior after another, while Turai's focus remained razor-sharp, his eyes constantly scanning for potential threats.
His sword moved like an extension of his will, slashing through the armor and flesh of any unfortunate enough to cross his path. As they approached the mountain summit, where the starting point was located, they finally slowed down.
Both were covered in blood and dirt, the aftermath of their latest spree visible in every stain and cut on their clothes.