—Tsk. —Renold frowned when he learned that his comrades had lost their own money because of him. And although the battle with the embodiment of the demon of horror significantly threw him off balance, the guy felt echoes of anger bubbling up in the depths of his soul. —So, they want to fight here like wild beasts, not like worthy people. So be it. —Waiting for his turn, he impatiently followed to the arena.
Behind them remained the baron's tournament, the noisy Tamfana with their childish games of make-believe, friendly handshakes, and mock battles. His blood-stained blade showed no mercy, made no distinction between weak and strong, until only a disfigured mess remained in the place of the next opponent. The guy knew that the enemies would not spare him either, and he was not going to play fair. And a couple of nightmares are not the worst price he was willing to pay.