He is so angry. He roared to the sky because of it. He fought and fought. He swung his battle axe and gave it his all. He has to win. They have to win. It is their part, and they must not fail. They must not fail. He knows this, so he fought with all he has.
He swung his axe and created vales of wind blades with every swing. He tore the ground asunder and fell trees in waves. He and his enemy moved through the forest like twin bolts of lightning. He tried his best. He really did. But he couldn't put his enemy down.
He stepped on the air and walked on it as if it were the ground. His affinity with the wind also makes him very light and fast. The ability to walk in the air allowed him to attack from every direction. He became a whirlwind of rage and violence. His blood sang within him. It roared in his ears. He could hear what it wanted clearly. It wanted vengeance. No, it craved vengeance.
