Self-loathe

Right after cutting the man down, Henry held his attacking stance, seemingly mimicking the statue above him slaying hundreds of dragon's heads with a single slash. The fire covering the small sword gradually dwindled, revealing the original silver color, and leaving an exhausted Henry to his knees, using the weapon to support himself.

*Huff*

He took a deep breath, trying to recover his Mana and stamina, while his eyes wearily roamed the chamber until it rested upon the lifeless body of his enemy. There was no blood gushing out of the dismembered neck, something that Henry had already expected, since the enemy wasn't a human. There was no one who could stand a direct attack on the jaw and stay unharmed.

"Wood..." - Henry thought tiredly, as he observed the splinters of wood scattered across the ground - "I've never seen such thing."