His body was wrecked—wounds bleeding freely, his breathing shallow and uneven. His sword trembled in his grip, slick with blood, too heavy now for a warrior of his caliber. His legs were failing him. His mind was racing. His heart pounded like war drums in a losing march.
"This…" he muttered, while looking at the now lifeless bodies of his comrade. His voice hoarse, disbelief turning to dread as it settled deep into his bones.
A whisper sliced through the silence like a dagger.
"Was that all you've got?"
The voice came from behind.
SLASH! SLASH!
Kael'thus whipped around, blade lashing wildly. His swings were clumsy, desperate—each one missing its mark, striking only air.
"YOU—!"
"DIE!"
"DIE!!"
Each shout cracked louder than the last, echoing with rage and panic. His sword slashes came fast and uncoordinated, driven more by instinct than precision. His golden eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now looked frenzied—like those of a cornered animal on the edge of breaking.
