Zarek raised his head and roared, as though the fire in his heart was billowing out of his throat.
He loved this feeling. He loved it with every ounce of his being. Never once would he ever say that he had had enough of it. He never would.
It was intoxicating—the feeling of facing death and then overcoming it, of stepping over the corpses of your enemies and feeling their blood running between your fingers.
Sometimes he even felt that his eagerness to see his own blood was even more enticing. There was a part of him that wanted to dance on that edge of life and death, to face off against a challenge that was continuous, one even more savage than himself.
He wanted to see more of what the world had to offer.
He pulled the jagged piece of crossbow-shield from the final Gladius' throat, standing to his feet with a sway that almost toppled him over.
