Damian's breath was soft.
The beat of his heart was heavy.
The air was too still, the silence too loud.
The scent of charred flesh clung to his lungs, and the screams, their screams still echoed inside his head.
Lyra's breath shuddered behind him, but all he could feel was the weight of the choice he made. The risk he took. The chaos he and Kitsuul brought!
This was them.
This was because of them.
He clenched his fists as silver light flickered across his skin. Kitsuul pulsed beneath his thoughts, her ninth tail fully blooming, power still climbing. Though she remained invisible to others, he could see her and how large her body was becoming.
But all of this… it wasn't enough to erase what had already been lost.
He never wanted to be like them.
Never be the kind of man like the Drunken Butcher who brought ruin in his wake.
But here he stood, surrounded by ash and death and broken bodies.
He wanted blood.
He wanted carnage against ZENTHRA and the Drunken Butcher!
