Blood dripped from her whetted sword and the sound moulded with the drizzle, as she stared at the cold and wet body laying on the ground in front of her. The throat was slit and the familiar scent of fishy iron was entering her nostrils time to time with the bone chilling breeze blowing by. She stood there, frozen in time, looking at the now-turned corpse that was begging for mercy a minute ago.
She had taken a life. Once again.
She had lost the count.
Feeling no emotional startle inside her chest, she sighed in relief and put the drenched sword back into the vessel. Pulling the hood forward, she commanded in her usual cold voice, "Let's go."
The other two sidekicks exchanged glances and immediately followed her tenacious footsteps.
Nobody had ever dared oppose The Keres.