Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound of blood hitting the asphalt echoed faintly. Aksai frowned, finding the sound slightly irritating, and stretched out his arm so that the blood would drip onto the fallen warrior's face instead.
The dying man lay on the ground, his eyes wide open as he watched Aksai crush his heart in front of him. Warm blood splattered across his own face, and his lips moved faintly, as if trying to form words. But all that came out was a faint gasp before his body went still.
For a few seconds, the entire dome was silent. No one moved. The other warriors stared at Aksai, their faces pale. Even the Aurous artists — usually proud and fearless — stepped back slightly without realizing it.
Aksai raised his blood-soaked hand, his golden eyes gleaming with wild amusement. "Now then," he said softly, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
Dozens of vines sprouted from the ground and the ceiling, twisting and swaying as if they were alive — each one ready to strike.
