[Haldor]
"You killed us! It's all your fault!" Silvia cried out, her voice filled with sorrow and anger. Thoran, her younger brother, stood beside her, silently holding her hand. Both of them were pale as death and had blood flowing out of their eyes and noses.
— "I did not!" Haldor screamed, dropping to his knees in horror. "It was her! All her! I didn't know..." He shouted, trying to reach out to touch his children, but his body wouldn't move.
"Why didn't you save us, father? You were supposed to protect us..." Little Silvia said, sobbing. "We were hungry... so hungry, father... It's all your fault..." she uttered before both of them vanished into the darkness.
— "I'm sorry! Please, wait! I'm sorry! I didn't know... I couldn't know... It was her! I tried to find you, I..." he screamed, trying to find the words to justify himself. But there were no excuses. What could he possibly say to lessen his guilt? He knew he'd failed as a father. He had failed his children.
"You murdered us..." Thoran's voice echoed from the dark.
Haldor's eyes suddenly snapped open, and he gasped. A cold sweat covered his forehead, and his heart raced wildly within his chest as he panted heavily. He sat upright, brushed aside the damp strands of hair that were clinging to his face, and took several deep breaths to calm himself down. The images from his dream were still vivid in his mind.
— "By the gods," he mumbled while rubbing his eyes. "It was just a dream... just a fucking dream," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
He had raven-black hair that was all disheveled, and an untidy beard surrounded his gaunt face, with his eyes looking empty and sunken. His leather armor hung loosely on a frame that was once muscular but now seemed skinny. His current appearance was nothing like the imposing warrior he used to be. For years, those nightmares had haunted him, draining him of his strength - every time he closed his eyes, the screams of his children filled his ears. Every time he slept, their pale corpses danced before him. They blamed him. And they were right, too. He'd failed them.
He shivered despite the warmth inside his tent. A chill ran down his spine as his body trembled uncontrollably. "Just a dream," he reassured himself, taking deep breaths and exhaling slowly.
He opened the tent, the cool breeze blowing in and making him feel better. Outside, the sky was a mixture of deep purples and blues, the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon. Birds chirped their morning songs, and leaves rustling in the wind filled his ears. Haldor took another deep breath, inhaling the fresh morning air and trying to clear his mind.
— "Damn nightmares." he cursed in frustration, searching for his boots in the dimly lit tent. Finding them, he slipped his feet into them and tied the laces tightly. "I really need a drink..." he sighed, taking his sword and buckling it around his waist. He grabbed his cloak and pulled it over his shoulders, fastening it with a simple knot. Once he stepped outside, he stretched his arms above his head, letting out a long yawn.
It had been raining earlier, and the ground was still muddy and wet, making walking difficult. His boots squelched with each step as he made his way toward his horse, hidden under the nearby tree, away from the rain.
— "Good morning, old boy," Haldor said softly, stroking the horse's muzzle. "I hope you slept better than I did."
The horse whinnied softly, nudging his palm with its nose. He smiled at his loyal companion, patted the animal's neck, and ran his fingers through its coarse mane. "Let's go. We need to hurry if we want to reach the city today."
He picked up the reins and returned to the tent to pack his belongings. Within minutes, he had his tent rolled up tightly and secured behind the saddle, a bedroll strapped securely beneath it. After finishing packing, Haldor swung himself into the saddle, put his feet in the stirrups, and urged his mount forward, its hooves splashing mud beneath them.
The morning flew by quickly, and soon, he reached the forest's edge. There, he paused momentarily and looked out towards the fields beyond. He saw rolling hills dotted with tree patches extending as far as the eye could see. As he continued his ride, his thoughts returned to his children again. Those dreams—no, nightmares—had haunted him relentlessly for five long years. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw their faces, accusing him, blaming him for their deaths.
His grip tightened on the reins, his knuckles whitening. There was still a chance they were alive... But the odds were slim, and Haldor knew it. He had been searching for years, yet there was no trace of his children. He had traveled far and wide, asking everyone he could find, looking for clues, but no one had seen them or heard of their whereabouts. The only conclusion he could come to was that they never made it out of the woods.
Even the adventurer's guild couldn't find anything despite offering a decent reward. His mind was filled with doubts and questions that had no answers. 'What happened to Odar and Argo, those two unlucky bastards? Did Nivalis really do... those things?' The truth is, he had no idea what happened there. He couldn't picture Nivalis doing such a thing, and yet... The bite marks, the missing body parts, the stolen supplies?
And what the priest discovered later... He saw her biting the man's neck. Everything pointed towards her, but it was just too unbelievable. 'Did she run out of food, and was this desperate?' Haldor wondered, his jaw clenched tightly.
— 'Doesn't make any sense. She took a lot of supplies when she ran,' Haldor reasoned in his mind. 'And how in hell did she fight two adventurers? She is not a warrior, not even close. A former elven princess, a spoiled brat, and a useless housewife... But not a fighter.' He sighed, running his hand through his tangled hair. It felt greasy and dirty. He looked around, trying to distract himself from these never-ending thoughts.
Hope is a cruel mistress. She torments you with glimpses of light where none exist, blinding you to reality. It makes you cling to the slightest chance of finding those you've lost, even when all signs point to their death. Haldor knew the chance of his children still being alive after all this time was nearly nonexistent, but part of him still hoped they were somewhere out there. Waiting for him to find them. To save them.
...
The sun began to dip below the horizon as evening approached, casting a golden hue across the sky. Haldor had been on the saddle the whole day and was tired and sore, but he was relieved to have reached the city before nightfall. A large crowd had gathered near the gates, waiting for their turn to enter. Haldor stopped and dismounted, leading his horse by its reins towards the southern gates.
There was a long line of carts and wagons, their owners patiently waiting their turn. Children ran around them, playing games while their mothers chatted amongst themselves. A few people stared at him curiously as he approached the line, but none bothered him.
He joined the queue, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. When he finally reached the front, a guard stepped forward and asked for his entry permit. He removed his old military tag necklace from under his worn leather armor and handed it over, watching silently as the guard inspected it closely before handing it back with a nod. "Welcome to Valemor," he said emotionlessly, motioning for him to move.
Haldor thanked him and led his mount through the archway, entering the bustling city. Valemor is a fairly big city, with stone walls surrounding it and tall watchtowers rising high above. Hundreds of homes and buildings stood within those walls, built mostly of wood, with some stone and brick structures here and there.
But what really made Valemor special for Haldor was its proximity to the forest where his children went missing. If Nivalis ever turned back, maybe out of desperation, it was most likely here where she would go first. It's big enough to lose herself in the crowd and buy supplies.
He walked down the crowded streets, passing shops and stalls selling various items. Vendors hawked their wares loudly, competing for the attention of passersby. Haldor ignored them, continuing on his path until he reached the inn. He needed a place to stay, and the cheapest one available was The Roaring Boar, an inn located in the slums of the city.
"Welcome to The Roaring Boar. My name is Liv. How can I help you, sir?" The young girl greeted him with a smile when he entered the inn. She was sweeping the floor but stopped to welcome him, resting the broom against the wall. She was short, a bit chubby, with her curly black hair tied up in a messy bun. Her brown eyes looked tired, and her clothes were stained, but something about her made him want to smile back.
— "Good evening," he replied politely. "Do you have a room?" Haldor asked, finally looking around. A few drunk men played cards in the corner, laughing loudly. One man lay passed out on the bench, snoring like a bear. Others sat around tables, chatting and drinking ale. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, its heat spreading throughout the building.
"We have plenty, sir. How many nights will you stay?" Liv inquired while they both headed towards the counter.
— "Two, at least. Maybe more. And I need my horse to be taken care of," Haldor answered, rummaging through his pockets for coins. "What's the price?"
"Eight copper a night and another three for the stable," she replied casually. "It won't include breakfast, though. You'll have to pay for that separately."
Haldor nodded, handing her the coins. She placed them into a box behind the counter before returning with a key, giving him a small smile. "Your room is upstairs, the second on the right. We can also prepare a hot tub, but we charge extra," Liv informed him, placing the key into his hands. "It is kind of small but enough to wash up. Would you like to have it prepared?"
— "Yes, please," Haldor replied. He was filthy, and his skin itched with dirt and sweat. Hot water sounded heavenly right now. "How much will that cost?"
"Two more coppers," she told him, holding her hand out expectantly. He dropped two more coins onto her palm and watched her pocket them before continuing. "Thank you, sir. My pa will get everything ready for you. He'll bring it to your room in about half an hour," she explained cheerfully.
— "Thanks. Don't forget about the horse, it's tied outside." Haldor reminded her, turning away and heading towards the stairs.
"Of course," she replied with a nod. "Have a nice stay!"
— "I will." He gave her a brief nod and climbed up the creaking wooden staircase.
Haldor walked along the corridor until he reached his room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The room was small and sparsely furnished, containing only a single bed and a nightstand. At least it was clean, and there was no sign of bugs or other vermin.
Haldor closed the door behind him, sighing heavily. It had been a long journey; now, he wanted nothing but to rest. He took off his belt and placed it on the nightstand. Then, he removed his leather armor, placing it carefully next to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots, dropping them onto the floor with a thud.
After a moment, he stretched his stiff body, his joints cracking loudly. He lay on the bed briefly and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds coming from downstairs. But then, after a few moments, the exhaustion of the past few days finally caught up with him. He fell asleep almost instantly.
The next thing he knew, someone knocked on his door, waking him from his slumber. Haldor sat up quickly, blinking away the sleep from his eyes.
As Haldor opened the door, he was struck by the sight of Liv's father, who carried a tub into the room without saying a word. The man was a giant of a person, standing almost a head taller than Haldor, who was by no means short himself. His arms and chest were so massive that they barely fit through the doorway. He was bald and had a thick, bushy beard that covered most of his face and a scar that ran from his eye to his cheek. The wooden tub wasn't big, but it was more than enough to freshen up.
The man's dark eyes met Haldor's, a known coldness hidden within them. A stare of someone who had seen too much, fought too many battles, and killed more than he could count. It was a gaze belonging to a soldier who knew pain, suffering, and death. Haldor recognized the look all too well, as he had it in his eyes. The man placed the tub on the ground, put a towel next to it, and then left the room without a word, closing the door behind him.
...
The next day, Haldor rose early, feeling refreshed and energized. He ate a quick breakfast of porridge and honey, paid for his meal, and left the inn. The sun had barely risen, and the city was still shrouded in shadows. However, the streets were already bustling with activity. He knew where he wanted to go first: the Adventurers Guild.
The building was located near the eastern gate and stood out. It was three floors high, constructed from stone and wood, and had a large balcony on the upper level. An emblem depicting a sword surrounded by flames hung above the entrance, proudly displaying the guild's symbol. Two heavily armored guards guarded the main entrance, sitting on chairs and chatting idly.
Inside, a massive room was filled with tables and chairs. Several clerks stood behind counters, talking with adventurers and handing out assignments. Dozens of adventurers milled around, chatting loudly and laughing at each other's jokes. At one table, a group of dwarves, who are a rare sight nowadays, were engaged in a heated discussion about their latest mission. They wore heavy armor and carried axes, shields, and swords resting against their chairs.
Haldor made his way through the crowd, approaching a counter where a middle-aged woman sat. Her short brown hair framed her pale face, and she wore glasses over her green eyes. She smiled politely as Haldor approached her.
"Hello, sir. Welcome to the Valemor's Adventurer's Guild. Would you like to post a request or accept one?" the woman asked, her voice professional.
— "I'm looking for information about an old request," Haldor replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the crumpled piece of parchment he'd kept with him all this time. "Is there any news?" he asked, handing it to the clerk.
The woman's brow furrowed slightly as she took the parchment from him and read it carefully. "Oh, this one... Unfortunately, we haven't received any new information on this request since it was posted," the woman told him with a sad tone. "Have you tried to check other guild branches? This request has been sent to..." She paused, checking the paper. "To six other cities. Maybe they had better luck?"
— "I did," Haldor responded without showing any frustration. This whole time, he did nothing but travel between those places, only to receive the same answer. "Nothing at all."
The woman sighed heavily, shaking her head slowly. "I'm sorry, sir. I wish I could tell you something different," she said, her voice sincere. "Despite being old, this is quite a famous request. I don't think a single adventurer doesn't know of it. I'm sure if anyone hears anything, they will inform us immediately. The reward is quite attractive," she said, returning the parchment to Haldor.
— "Thanks anyway," Haldor muttered, turning around and leaving the building. He felt frustrated and disappointed, but at the same time, he wasn't surprised. This happened to him many times before, and he expected no less. It had been five long years, after all.
Haldor spent a few hours visiting the market and various shops to prepare for his upcoming journey. However, it only reminded him of another problem - the coins in his pocket were decreasing rapidly. All those years of traveling and searching had cost him a small fortune.
He had to sell his house, steel armor, and even his two-handed sword to cover the expenses, which was the most painful of all. Enchanted with dwarven runes, it was one of a kind, forged just for him. A gift from his father. He loved and treasured this weapon more than any other in the world. Now, the blade rested in some merchant's storage.
Haldor spent the entire day asking around about Nivalis, but nobody seemed to know anything. As the sun began to set, its fading light painted the city's buildings with shades of orange. Haldor returned to the Roaring Boar, the inn that was now crowded and lively with dozens of drunken men and women enjoying their evening.
They even had a bard performing, a tall, thin man in colorful robes strumming a lute. Haldor paid no attention to the music or the people as he sat alone in the corner, sipping a cheap ale.
Up until a certain song. The bard began to sing, and a few voices joined as they recognized the tune.
Where no light shines, forest old and deep,
Where shadows dance, and secrets sleep,
An elven princess, with eyes of ice and moonlit hair,
In the dark of night, you pray... You pray for her to stay away!
Haldor almost spit the ale in his mouth. 'What the hell?' Haldor thought, standing up and taking a better look at the bard. A few men sang the words along with the bard while others tapped their mugs in time with the beat.
She stalks the woods with children pair,
Their golden eyes, like embers, glare!
They tread so light, with steps so sly,
And leave no trace beneath the sky.
The bard continued, his voice ringing throughout the inn. His lute strings vibrated as his fingers danced across them, producing a catchy melody.
Haldor stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the bard and the crowd. He couldn't believe his ears. Everyone sang along happily as if this was a well-known, well-liked song. The song went on.
Winter's breath, the snowflakes fall,
Lost in the storm, you hear her call.
No footprints found, no blood, no bone,
Just children's laughter, their satisfied moan.
The villagers whisper; they tell no lies,
Of hungry elven princess, a beast disguised!
In the winter, when snow falls deep,
She hunts when others sleep...
The whole inn began clapping and cheering when the bard finished singing. But for Haldor, all sounds became distant echoes as his heart thundered in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. Everyone was smiling and laughing, enjoying their drinks, completely unaware of what really happened back then. Completely oblivious to the tragedy his children faced, of their possible fate... A fate that Haldor tried so desperately to deny. Of hungry death somewhere in the wilderness, alone and cold. Forgotten and afraid.
"It's your fault," a familiar voice of his daughter spoke to him. Haldor froze, unable to move, his eyes searching for her. But all he saw was people dancing, laughing, singing, and drinking. Bard played another song.
"You did this to us," it repeated, louder and clearer, its source impossible to find. "Now they mock us. Laughing at our corpses..." she cried, her voice breaking.
Haldor's fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into his skin. His face contorted in anger and pain as he tried to control himself, to suppress the rage and guilt boiling inside him.
"Dad... Help me..." another voice called out to him, weak and terrified. A boy's voice. Thoran's voice. Haldor spun around, trying desperately to find him. His eyes darted everywhere, searching frantically, but his son was nowhere in sight.
But soon he saw... them. He saw a little girl holding the corpse of her brother, dancing to the bard's music, their faces twisted with agony. Her movements were unnatural and jerky, the boy's lifeless body swaying awkwardly. Her mouth opened wide as if screaming, but no sound escaped her lips. Blood flowed freely from their eyes and noses, dripping onto the floor.
And the smell... Haldor could smell it all - the rot, the decay, the death, the stench of a corpse. He knows this smell all too well. Every man who has seen war does. His stomach lurched, threatening to empty its contents.
A woman next to him looked at Haldor with a puzzled expression. "Is everything alright, mister?" she asked. But her question didn't reach him. He didn't even notice her. Haldor clenched his teeth so hard that the woman could hear them grind against each other.
Haldor lost it. Without thinking, without realizing what he was doing, Haldor launched forward, his body acting on instinct alone. The next thing he saw was the bard smiling innocently before him. His head jerked back violently as Haldor's fist connected with his nose.
There was a sickening crunch as the bard fell backward. The lute's strings twanged loudly, and its wood splintered when the instrument hit the ground. Haldor didn't stop there, though. He approached the downed bard and grabbed him by his throat.
"Please, I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Please..." the bard cried out, his face contorted with fear and pain. But Haldor didn't listen. He didn't care.
Then, he began to repeatedly punch his face, smashing the delicate bones and sending blood and bits of flesh flying. Everyone in the tavern turned their heads towards them, stopping what they were doing, watching them with shock and disbelief... Except for Liv, the owner's daughter, who invited the bard to perform today. She ran toward the two of them, her face pale with terror.
"Stop! Stop! What are you doing!?" she cried, trying to pull him off the bard. "Let him go!" But Haldor didn't react, didn't listen, didn't stop. Instead, he pushed the girl away roughly, making her hit the table with her hip. She yelped, falling on the floor.
A few men, their faces hardened with resolve, rose from their seats. Their hands clenched into fists, ready to intervene. But a certain someone was much faster to react than anyone else.
A large shadow appeared beside Haldor, blocking his view. The next thing Haldor saw was a big fist slamming into his jaw. His head snapped sideways as pain exploded throughout his skull. Everything blurred momentarily as he tumbled backward, releasing the bard from his grasp.
He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, blinking rapidly. His jaw throbbed painfully, and his ears rang loudly. He blinked again, and his sight cleared just enough to see the giant of a man.
The inn's owner. Liv's father.
He quickly stood up and faced the huge man. Haldor removed his belt with the sheath attached, threw it away, and rolled up his sleeves. He knew when to use a sword, and this wasn't one of those situations. He could feel blood trickling down his chin and taste its metallic flavor on his tongue.
The innkeeper frowned, his dark eyes filled with anger, but his lips curled into a chilling smile. He cracked his neck, flexed his muscles, and rushed forward, swinging his arm at Haldor.
Haldor sidestepped the blow and delivered a sharp punch into the giant's exposed side. Haldor's hand throbbed painfully, and he swore under his breath. The man's ribs felt like solid stone beneath his knuckles.
But the giant didn't flinch, didn't even seem affected. He swung his arm again, aiming for Haldor's head.
Haldor ducked underneath the blow but was met with a knee, smashing into his forehead and sending him crashing into a nearby table. But the pain only made Haldor laugh madly as he wiped away the blood from his face.
— "Is this all you've got, big guy? Come on, show me what you're made of," Haldor taunted, spitting out the blood in his mouth. He jumped up, launched forward, and aimed an uppercut at the innkeeper's chin.
The big man took the punch without flinching as if it were nothing more than a light tap. It seemed like the weight difference was too significant, but Haldor wasn't intimidated by his opponent's size. He was used to fighting against stronger and bigger enemies. He knew how to handle someone bigger than him.
Haldor's next strike missed the target, however. Instead of hitting his chin, his fist flew past the giant's head, grazing the edge of his ear. The man smiled, then responded with a quick jab, catching Haldor square in the nose. The blood from his nostrils flew through the air, spraying everywhere.
Haldor ignored the pain, stepped in, and landed a nasty kick to the giant's leg just above the knee. And it looks like the giant felt it well. Maybe the old trauma or the old bones. Either way, his leg gave out under him, making him kneel. Haldor followed it up with a series of quick punches. Every vulnerable spot, every weak point he could think of. Each blow struck with precision, hitting exactly where he intended.
Seeing this, a few men were about to help the innkeeper. But their intervention was unnecessary. The giant took every punch without faltering and didn't even grunt with pain. Then, his massive hand grabbed Haldor's arm, pulling him closer. Before Haldor could react, the man's fist slammed into his gut, knocking the wind out of his lungs.
— "Oh, fuck," Haldor groaned as he bent forward, coughing. Meanwhile, the innkeeper signaled the men with a gesture to stand back, wanting to finish this fight on his own.
Then, oh fucking finally, Haldor felt it. Deep inside, his Blessing Stone of Berserker awakened, responding to the adrenaline and rage coursing through his veins.
Haldor's eyes narrowed, and his muscles tensed as a surge of energy flooded his body. His blood boiled hotter, pumping harder, fueling his muscles with strength and speed. Maybe he lost his Fire affinity, maybe his body couldn't use the mana, but the damn stone was still there.
"Not bad," the giant spoke, his voice deep and rough. He noticed the change and decided to take this seriously.
— "You hit like a fucking girl, you stupid bastard," Haldor snarled. He was still struggling to breathe properly.
The big man charged, throwing his entire weight behind a powerful punch. Haldor ducked at the last second, narrowly avoiding being smashed in the face. Instead, the giant's fist hit the wooden beam supporting the ceiling. The wood splintered, cracking loudly, and the impact shook the entire building.
Haldor wasted no time and used the opportunity, responding with a punch of his own. His fist flew straight at the innkeeper's face, hitting his nose and returning the favor. There was a loud crack, followed by a muffled curse from the big man as he stumbled backward. Blood poured from the broken nose.
But Haldor wasn't done yet. He continued his attack, landing several more punches, one after another, before grabbing the giant's shirt and throwing him onto the table behind them. The furniture toppled over, spilling food and drinks everywhere. People around them scattered, trying to avoid being caught in the crossfire.
Haldor's gaze locked on the big man, who was now struggling to get up from the pile of broken wood and spilled food. Before the giant could regain his balance, Haldor rushed towards him, delivering a fierce kick to his stomach. This finally triggered the men around to intervene.
The chairs and tables flew, teeth crunched, and cries of pain were shouted. More and more men joined the fight. Haldor lost count of how many of them. All he could see was a blur of fists and feet, the sounds of breaking furniture and cursing men filling his ears.
They were peasants, nothing compared to the veterans he fought. No matter how many joined, Haldor remained undefeated. It wasn't even a fight for him... It took him no more than a minute to take them down.
But it was enough for the innkeeper to recover and catch Haldor off guard. He grabbed Haldor's neck, lifted him off the ground, and threw him across the entire room. Haldor's back hit the wall hard, and he slumped to the floor, groaning. Hearing the approaching steps, Haldor tried to stand up. But before he could do so, the giant was already upon him, grabbing his head and smashing it against the wall. Then again, and again.
Haldor's vision went black momentarily, and the world spun around him. A ringing noise echoed in his ears, now louder than ever. Blood trickled down his face, staining his clothes. His brain felt like mush, unable to comprehend anything. But the Blessing Stone inside him burned with pure anger, urging him to continue, forcing his consciousness to stay awake. To fight, to kill, to destroy everything around him.
Haldor roared in fury and managed to lock his legs around the giant's neck, putting him into a chokehold. The man's eyes widened in surprise as he struggled to free himself. He grabbed Haldor's legs and tried to force them apart, but they wouldn't budge.
— "Die, die, die!" Haldor shouted, squeezing tighter. His face was covered in blood and bruises, but he didn't care. All he could think about was killing the bastard. The innkeeper gasped and thrashed, his face turning red. Two men rushed in, trying to help, and started to kick Haldor with their heavy boots.
But their attempts were futile. As if they were attacking an iron statue, Haldor didn't move, his grip unrelenting. He tightened his legs, crushing the giant's throat. Feeling inevitable, the innkeeper began to mumble something incredibly quickly, using the last few breaths available to him.
Haldor's eyes widened, seeing how the man's skin started to turn into stone. A faint green light emanated from his flesh as it changed into a rough, grey texture.
A fucking Stoneblood. The spell from Earth Affinity.
The man's body was turning into a living rock. Hard and solid, impossible to break, even with a war hammer. With Fire Affinity, Haldor could burn the bastard and turn the stone into molten slag. But now? Nothing he could do.
The next thing Haldor could feel was his legs breaking, bones snapping under the pressure of the man's grip. Then, the pain, oh, the pain. Haldor tried to push away from him, but it was pointless. Then he started to punch the stone face repeatedly, his fists turning into a bloody mess, but nothing helped.
The giant's features remained unchanged except for his smile. His lips curled surprisingly high, enjoying the desperation and suffering in Haldor's eyes. But luckily for Haldor, the innkeeper's daughter was watching this whole mess. The man couldn't let her see this side of him... see what he truly was. What war turned him into. So, he decided to end it quickly.
A massive, stone fist slammed into Haldor's face. And with that, everything went dark.