One step forward, steel clashed dozens of times, two steps forward, the ground shook, three steps forward, the sick sonority of flesh parting unnaturally, blood falling up the ground, of bone snapping under terrible weight.
On and on, Milo moved forward, forcing himself to move even as Minli tried to stop him, the sword piercing his right lung brought unending agony, his breathing was troubled as pinkish foam travelled up his throat, the embrace of gold surrounded him, shining brightly as it attempted to tend to his wounds.
Why was Milo here today? Because he had fallen in love with Helena? Because David had been brutally murdered by an undead? Because his corpse had been made into a mindless puppet following this? Because he had made friends with his peers? Did he feel the need to take revenge? For his loved ones? For himself? Was it for the greater good? Did he consider this Loimos to be a threat to all? Was this what drove him forward? One of these? All of them?
