"You know who Adohorn is?" Kaizen asked, his voice gruff, as he stepped on the man's head.
Despite the crushing pressure on his skull and neck, the mercenary mage managed to laugh briefly. "I would never tell you, even if it cost me my life."
Kaizen's grin was malicious as he drove the Næġling Falske into the ground right beside the mercenary's head, sending chills down his spine. "I don't intend to kill you in the way you're imagining. You see this blade here? It has the power to make its victim bleed continuously, no matter how you try to stop it—with bandages or magic—nothing will work. Even a tiny cut on your neck will cause you to bleed uncontrollably, and it won't stop. The pain will linger for hours, maybe days." He was bluffing; while the Næġling Falske did cause bleeding, there were also ways to heal it.
The mage clenched his teeth, listening and growing more anxious by the second, but before he could speak, Kaizen went on.
