"What was all of this?" Dantalian spoke, looking up at the sky, his hand bathed in Zatryen's blood, dripping incessantly onto the ground. In that moment, time seemed suspended for Dantalian. None of the deaths he had caused ever affected him, not even when he reduced that servant of the Fifteen to ashes while in the realm of the elves.
So why did Zatryen's death feel so strangely pleasurable?
Dantalian's lips curved into a smile of pure joy, his cyan eyes reflecting the skies above as the golden energy gradually diminished, causing the radiant symbol on his hand to disappear. He was followed by an indescribable euphoria that overtook him.
As the blood continued to drip from his hand, he took a deep breath, savoring the newfound serenity enveloping his being. In that brief pause, he allowed himself to acknowledge the emotions that had been suppressed for so long without even knowing.
