Blood sprayed the stone wall, the sound muffled by the cloak of darkness. Just as Lucas wiped his blade clean, another guard rounded the corner. Eyes wide with horror, the guard shouted, "Intruder! Sound the alarm!"
Lucas's smile widened. He lunged, his katana slicing through the guard's throat. Blood gushed out, but it was too late—the alarm had been raised.
The compound erupted in chaos as guards flooded the hallways, weapons drawn. Lucas stood his ground, the bloodlust in his eyes matching the crimson stains on his blade.
"So, they want a bloodbath," he muttered, relishing the thrill. "Let's give them one."
A group of guards charged at him. Lucas sidestepped the first attack, his katana slicing through the chest of the nearest guard. The man fell, his scream echoing through the halls. Lucas spun, firing his revolver into the face of another, the bullet tearing through flesh and bone.
"Humans," Lucas scoffed, "a bit harder to kill than monsters, but not by much."
He dodged a swinging blade, his own katana cleaving through the attacker's arm. The guard's severed limb fell to the ground, blood spurting from the stump. Lucas laughed, the sound cold and chilling. "Pathetic."
The guards surrounded him, trying to overwhelm him with sheer numbers. Lucas reveled in the challenge. His movements were a deadly dance, each strike precise and lethal. He blocked an incoming sword with his katana, twisting to fire his revolver into the gut of another attacker.
A guard managed to land a glancing blow on Lucas's arm, drawing blood. Lucas looked at the wound, then back at the guard, his smile never faltering. "You actually managed to hit me. Impressive."
He retaliated with a swift, brutal slash that opened the guard's throat. Blood sprayed out, coating Lucas's mask. He moved on, the pain in his arm only fueling his fury.
More guards poured into the hallway, their faces twisted with fear and determination. Lucas met them head-on, his katana and revolver a blur of death. He disarmed one guard, stabbing him through the eye with the katana, while simultaneously shooting another in the heart.
"They really think they stand a chance," he mused, slicing through another guard's abdomen. The man's entrails spilled out, and he fell with a gurgled scream. "Delusional."
Despite his skill, the sheer number of guards began to take its toll. Lucas's breaths came heavier, his movements slightly slower. Yet, he was exhilarated, his arrogance growing with each kill.
A particularly burly guard tackled him to the ground, and they struggled, grappling for dominance. The guard landed a punch to Lucas's jaw, momentarily stunning him. Lucas grinned through the pain, headbutting the guard before slitting his throat.
He rolled to his feet, facing the remaining guards. "Is this the best you've got?" he taunted. "I'm just getting started."
Lucas fought on, his body a whirlwind of violence. He took several more hits, the guards' weapons cutting into his flesh. But each wound only seemed to fuel his rage and determination. He fought with a ferocity that was almost inhuman, cutting down the guards one by one.
Finally, the last guard fell, his lifeblood pooling on the cold stone floor. Lucas stood amidst the carnage, panting and covered in blood. His clothes were torn, and his body bore numerous wounds, but his eyes still burned with fierce satisfaction.
He wiped his katana clean, surveying the bodies littering the ground. "Every last one of you," he muttered, the arrogance in his voice unmistakable. "Humans might be a bit tougher than monsters, but they die just the same."
Lucas holstered his revolver, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebb away. He walked through the halls, stepping over the fallen guards. The compound was eerily silent now, the only sound the drip of blood from his blade.
He reached the main chamber, where the elves were kept. Their eyes were wide with fear and disbelief, staring at the blood-soaked figure before them.
Lucas reached the main dungeon, a grim sight before him. The chamber was crowded with elves of various sizes and ages, predominantly females, all shackled and looking dreadful. Their eyes, wide with terror, darted around the room. Some elven mothers shielded their children, while others glanced at Lucas with a flicker of hope.
He approached a rock in the center of the room and sat down, his blood-soaked cloak falling to the ground with a heavy thud, splattering blood onto the floor. Removing his mask, Lucas took a deep breath. His pale hair tumbled over his face, and his dim emerald eyes glowed like a sharp blade.
He uncorked a healing potion and drank it, then turned his gaze towards the elves. They noticed his half-elven heritage by the shape of his ears, their expressions shifting from fear to curiosity.
"Ahm, ahm," Lucas cleared his throat, his voice steady but weary. "You are now free." He approached a young girl of about seven. The elves, their faces a mix of hope and skepticism, watched his every move.
The girl, frightened by the stranger, shut her eyes tightly. Lucas, noting her fear, carefully used his sword to break her shackles. As the chains fell away with a soft clink, the girl's eyes fluttered open. Seeing her freedom, tears began to fall. Hesitantly, she wrapped her small arms around Lucas's waist.
Lucas, remaining impassive, gently ruffled her silvery-gold hair. After a few moments, she released her grip and whispered, "Thank you."
The elves observed this exchange with mixed feelings. They murmured among themselves, their voices filled with a blend of cautious curiosity and reluctant acceptance.
"He's not one of us," an elder elf said quietly, noticing Lucas's human heritage through his half-elven features. "His blood isn't pure, and his presence is unsettling."
"But he's helping us," another elf replied, glancing at Lucas.
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