Roars, screams and an agonising cry filled the area.
Grogthar trembled in rage, his lower body pooled with black, sticky blood holding onto himself with a single hand while his giant axe smashed down with a thud.
"Y-you vile wretch!"
"Heh," Zell responded.
As if to mock the goblin, his face contained no concern or guilt as he lowered down, with tensing muscles, before he burst forward, holding his axe above his head, tearing through the air with each step moving over a metre.
The goblin's eyes darted for a moment to find his figure, only a cloud of dust left before him. But then snapped out of it, taking a deep breath, trying to desperately ignore the pain in his loins, as the figure of the black armoured male appeared, his axe swinging down.
Yet time seemed to have stopped; his body didn't hurt, and all his thoughts became faster; Grogthar was stunned for a moment.
