The taste of victory was sweet on Ezekiel's lips as he stood amidst the fallen demigods, their defeated forms serving as a testament to his newfound strength. The air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood, the ground stained crimson beneath his feet. But even as he reveled in the aftermath of the battle, a primal hunger gnawed at his insides, urging him to sate his bloodlust and revel in the ecstasy of the kill.
With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Ezekiel turned his attention to Damian, the leader of the Ares House, who now lay at his mercy, a pitiful sight compared to the fearsome warrior he had once been. Damian's face was pale with terror, his eyes wide with fear as he pleaded for his life, his voice trembling with desperation.
But Ezekiel paid him no heed, his gaze fixed on his fallen adversaries with a hunger that bordered on obsession. He could feel the primal urge building within him, driving him to unleash his full power upon those who had dared to challenge him.
With a swift and decisive motion, Ezekiel raised his weapon, the glint of steel flashing in the dim light of the training grounds. He took a step forward, his movements deliberate and precise as he prepared to deliver the final blow that would bring about the end of his enemies.
But before he could strike, Damian's voice rang out, a desperate plea for mercy that pierced the silence like a dagger. "Please," he begged, his voice trembling with fear. "Have mercy, Ezekiel. Spare us, and I swear we will never cross you again."
Ezekiel paused, his gaze flickering between Damian and his fallen comrades, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He could see the fear in their eyes, the realization dawning that they were at his mercy, and he reveled in the power it gave him.
But even as he toyed with the idea of granting them mercy, a voice in the back of his mind urged him to embrace the darkness within him, to unleash the full extent of his power and revel in the ecstasy of the kill.
With a predatory grin, Ezekiel raised his weapon once more, the anticipation of the final blow sending a thrill of excitement coursing through his veins. He could feel the bloodlust building within him, driving him to new heights of exhilaration as he prepared to deliver the killing blow that would end their lives.
Before he struck, Ezekiel turned his gaze to Damian, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Pathetic," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "A son of the war god, and yet you cower before me like a frightened child. You're an embarrassment to your father, Damian, and an even greater embarrassment as the head of the Ares House."
Damian's face flushed red with shame and fury, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to contain his rage. But Ezekiel paid him no mind, his attention focused solely on the thrill of the hunt and the sweet satisfaction of victory.
With a triumphant roar, Ezekiel brought down his weapon, the sound of steel meeting flesh echoing through the training grounds as his enemies fell before him. And as he stood amidst the carnage, Ezekiel knew that his legend would only continue to grow, until none dared to challenge him again.
As Ezekiel stood amidst the fallen demigods, his victory complete, he felt a surge of power coursing through his veins, a primal ecstasy that left him intoxicated with triumph. But as he reached for the reward that had appeared on his translucent screen, a sense of unease crept over him, a foreboding sensation that prickled at the back of his mind.
With a curious tilt of his head, Ezekiel accessed the reward: "Eyes of the Abyss – Passive Skill." Intrigued by the promise of newfound abilities, he activated the skill, his anticipation rising with each passing moment.
But as the power surged through him, Ezekiel's senses were overwhelmed by a wave of excruciating pain, a searing agony that tore through his body like fire. He cried out in agony, his vision blurring as darkness engulfed him, consuming him from within.
For a moment, Ezekiel feared that he had made a grave mistake, that the power he sought had proven too great for him to control.