The two Blood Takers facing them are different from the others—better armed, sharper eyes. One twirls twin curved daggers, his body lean and quick.
The other—larger, a brute with a war pick slung over his shoulder—grins when he sees me.
"Well well," the dagger-wielder says, voice oily, "Look who finally shows up."
The innkeeper grits his teeth, raising his axe again. "Get her... out of here...!"
I step forward.
"No," I say. "They don't get to leave here still living"
The larger man lunges with terrifying speed for his size. I sidestep, barely, feeling the air shift as his weapon crashes into the floorboards with enough force to splinter them.
The quick one's on me instantly, daggers flashing.
Too fast to block both. One cuts my cheek. The other glances off my armor.
These two are nothing comparable to the ones that I killed before.
I shove him back with my shoulder, driving a knee into his gut. He gasps, staggering—but not out. These two are experienced.
The brute bellows, swinging wide.
I duck under it and counter—my blade slashes across his side, drawing blood but not stopping him. His body seeming to be almost as hard at steel itself.
[Insight]
[Elite Enforcers – High-tier members of the Blood Takers. Strength far surpasses standard raiders. One focuses on speed and agility; the other brute force. Untrained villagers stand no chance.]
Neither do they. Not anymore.
The {Bloodlust} pulses as I activate the skill. My grip tightens. The swelling of pressure pushes against my head.
They came here to burn, to kill, to rip this village apart for one man.
I'll give them what they want.
As {Bloodlust} grows in feeling I can feel it affecting my thoughts as now all I want it to rip them limb from limb.
The brute brings his pickaxe down again this time he's movements seem significantly slower instead on side stepping I step forwards into the swing this time catching him off guard. Tightening my first as hard as I can I slam it into his kneecap.
The crunch of the blow echo's loudly as the brute screams out in pain, As he stumbles back the quick one is back on me. I can feel the bloodlust guiding me almost like a primal instinct.
I will make no attempt to draw my sword against him knowing that my lack of proficiency with it will only hold me back, as he swings his daggers at me, I'm on the defense using my gauntlets to protect myself.
Each time the dagger connects with my gauntlets I can feel him growing in frustration, His once so fast moves are slowly becoming slower as we clash.
Each clang of his daggers against my gauntlets feeds something inside me. The hunger. The wrath. {Bloodlust} hums through my bones like war drums, and my vision sharpens to a tunnel of red and silver and flame.
He's fast. But not faster than my body's instinct.
He spins, ducking low, aiming for my ribs. I twist—too slow—and the blade catches me just beneath the arm. Pain blooms.
But I don't falter.
"Is that it?" I growl ignoring the searing pain.
His eyes widen. I catch his next swing mid-strike—gauntlet clamping around his wrist like a vice.
Then I pull.
My forehead slams into his nose. There's a crack—a satisfying one—and he staggers, blood spraying. I don't let go.
I slam him again.
The crunch from the blow disfiguring his face. Yet I still hunger for more.
Again.
Twice as fast this time.
The third splits his skull open. His head snaps back, body limp, and I hurl him into the wall like trash. He hits the timber hard enough to leave a dent, sliding down unconscious—or dead. Doesn't matter to me.
A roar shakes the walls.
The brute's back, limping but furious, pick raised high.
"ILL KILL YOU" he screams.
I reach for my blade this time, the Bloodlust whispering just loud enough to let me think while still promising carnage.
His swing crashes down—I meet it head-on.
Our weapons clash, sparks flying. His strength is immense, the impact jolts through my arms, but I hold.
"You're strong," I say, voice low, the Bloodlust coiling around each word like smoke. "But you don't want this more than me."
I twist, breaking the clash, then drive my shoulder into his gut. He grunts, backpedals
—right into the innkeeper's axe.
Steel buries in the brute's back with a sickening crunch.
He roars, turns, lifting the pick—but I'm already moving.
I cleave through his side. My blade bites deep, finding the crack I made earlier.
He drops to one knee, gurgling.
One final blow will end it now the brute no longer having the strength to fight back. As I grab his head with both hands I start to squeeze as the brute cry's out in pain. Then snap as I twist with all my strength breaking the brute's neck as he falls limp onto the floor.
Silence falls.
The floor groans under my weight and his corpse. The flames still burn outside, but this room, this moment, belongs to us now.
The innkeeper drops his axe. His legs give out, and he slumps to the floor beside Hayle, chest heaving.
Hayle stirs. Her eyes flutter open and lock on me. "You came back," she whispers.
I drop to one knee beside her, checking the burn. It's ugly, but not fatal.
"I said I'd protect you," I murmur.
She nods once, barely conscious.
The innkeeper looks up, face grim but proud. "You're not like the rest of them… are you?"
"I don't get why you guys keep saying things like that"
I just stand, the Bloodlust beginning to ebb. My blade drips.
There's still more to do.
Still fire outside.
Still lives to save.
"Stay here," I say. "I'm not finished yet."