Faldir stood still as the words hung in the air, Yulmauri's mocking sneer carving into his patience like a dagger. The Death Bringer. The Madman. The Butcher. These titles had followed him through blood and ruin, but tonight, they didn't matter.
With a sigh, he reached up and unclasped the mask from his face, letting it drop to the ground. The metal clattered softly against the blood-soaked dirt. He followed it with one of his swords, the weapon landing at his feet with a dull thud. Finally, he shrugged off the cloak and hood, letting them slip from his shoulders to reveal the full form of Faldir Wolfscar.
Beneath the pale moonlight, his muscular frame seemed carved from stone, his sleeveless armor exposing arms forged by years of brutal combat. His once-short hair had grown long, cascading down to the middle of his back in thick, untamed locks. But it was his eyes that drew the most attention—piercing orange, like molten embers, glowing faintly in the dark.
Yulmauri's smirk faltered as he saw Faldir's transformation. For a moment, it seemed as though Faldir was surrendering, his body relaxing, his gaze softening.
"You giving up, old friend?" Yulmauri taunted, gripping the woman's hair even tighter. His voice dripped with mockery, but there was an edge of unease in it now.
Faldir didn't answer. He simply stared, his expression unreadable. The village seemed to hold its breath as the two men faced each other. Then, without warning, Faldir moved.
His remaining sword shot from his hand like a bolt of lightning, his arm snapping forward with incredible strength. At the same time, he whispered a word under his breath, and the air around the blade shimmered and cracked. A gust of wind surged behind the sword, propelling it with blinding speed.
Yulmauri barely had time to gasp before the blade struck him. The force of the impact drove the sword clean through his chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing backward. The door to the main house splintered as Yulmauri's body smashed through it, flying across the room before slamming into the far wall.
When the dust settled, Yulmauri was pinned to the wall by the sword, the hilt trembling slightly from the force of the throw. His eyes widened in shock, blood pooling around the blade as he struggled to draw breath. The woman fell to the floor, free from his grasp, her sobs muffled by the chaos around her.
Faldir stood motionless at the gates, his hand still extended from the throw. Slowly, he let it drop to his side, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.
From inside the house, Yulmauri's voice rasped out, weak and trembling. "You… you bastard…"
Faldir began to walk forward, each step deliberate and heavy, his silhouette framed by the carnage he had wrought. His long hair swayed in the faint breeze, his orange eyes burning brighter as he closed the distance between him and the broken remains of his once-comrade.