Gently leaning on his sword Titus looked down the walls overlooking the battlefield below, his eyes had a red glint which lit the black holes of his helmet. Watching his current prey cut it's way through the hordes of soldiers leading the charge towards the castle, Titus observed his every movement, the way he swung his sword, the patterns in his attacks, his rate of breathing, everything. Like a hawk he stood up tall on the edge of the wall and as his prey approached along with it's entourage ready to assault the walls, he gazed at the excited and determined expressions on their faces, the relief they must feel to be one step closer to victory. It was at that moment that Titus stepped forward using the side of the ledge to propel himself downwards and with an inhuman speed he landed atop one of the assaulting soldiers with his sword lodged in his lungs, the soldiers surrounding him were taken aback and too stunned to react, the soldier beneath Titus could only let out a gargling struggle as he drowned in his own blood.

Titus effortlessly removed his sword and pointed it to his selected prey, the Young Protégé of the enemy forces, a noble of high birth who had been the beacon of hope for the Kingdom of Helga, his most trusted officers surrounding him and ready to defend their liege and lay down their lives for the Young Lord knowing the importance of his survival. Titus lowered his sword and stared at the group ahead of him as they prepared to face him not realizing that they had been completely cut off after rushing through the Francian soldiers, the rest of the Helgan soldiers tried their best to advance however they were met with a now impenetrable defensive line. 

As the now panicking group looked around for an escape route, Titus slowly stepped closer with his mana began to leak out along with his overwhelming blood lust which gave the group a chill as if they were staring at a beast salivating at a delicious meal. 

Titus began his his attack and quickly cleaved one of the officers in two, his torso being flung to the side as his lower half fell, as the blood and guts were flung through the air Titus then took the opportunity to attack another soldier lunging forward and quickly plunging his sword through the eye of his helmet. Without leaving the group anytime to react he cut them down as viciously as he could and in only a few moments the only man standing before Titus was the young Lord who despite proving himself a Noble and Respectable Leader and having proved himself time and again in battle, this same Noble was shaking in fear looking at the monster infront of him and knowing that he could not escape, he tried desperately knowing that it was the only option to fight against Titus however his attacks were simply swatted to the side almost sending him along with it each time until he was finally thrown to the ground. Now on his hands and knees, the fatigue fully sinking into his body shackling him to the ground, he could only lift his head to see the remains of his most loyal friends surrounding him, a reminder of his own fate.

'Where did I go wrong?' he thought to himself, 'I trained the hardest, I was meant to lead the next generation of Swordmasters, They called me a genius who could overcome any adversary so why? Why can't I even see the top of this wall?' 

Realizing the entity infront of him was now ready to indult in his prey and had grown tired of playing, the Noble asked Titus while looking at the ground, "At least give me the honour of knowing the name of the monster that had been hiding in this damned fortress?"

Titus paused after raising his sword and replied in a dry tone "I am Titus, Wrath of the South Gate, know that your villages will burn and your peasants will hang." The last part of his sentence made the Noble look up in shock as he trembled and tried to speak he could not and instead looked at Titus who's eyes were hidden however he was able to tell that he wasn't bluffing.

Titus swung down his sword cleanly separating the Nobles head from his body, he grabbed the head and held it high in view of all the Francian troops both atop the wall and below who let out war cries and raved that the enemy Lord had died, this news quickly reached the Helgan army who began to withdraw now knowing their only hope of breaching the impenetrable castle had been confirmed to have fallen.

The another day came to an end however unlike the previous few weeks of being besieged the Southern Fortress celebrated as their scouts confirmed the full retreat of the neighbouring troops who once again failed to even cross the border of Francia.