We all know the problem with powerful creatures, especially those with violent and ferocious attitudes. When faced with such an attack, then shameless words.
How could Alexander stand back? Why would he think logically despite the twangs of nostalgia in his mind? He didn't know any Silvan werewolves, and this woman suddenly bit his throat and commented on the sword his beloved Sarah gifted him.
And so, he was a man.
Extremely mad.
Alexander lifted himself, wiping the dirt and blood from his suit as it began to repair slowly, his eyes glowing a deep red, looking at the tall werewolf with her tight body and pristine blade in the upper row stance.
'Ah...'
He couldn't understand why he was so angry because of this woman—clenching his fists, the handle of the nodachi rattling from the force before he took a low stance, the blade pointed towards her abdomen.
"Fuck you."
