Two corpses lay in spreading pools of blood. One pinned to the ground with a sword through his shoulder, head severed cleanly. The other crumpled near the entrance, neck crushed and head rolling in the wrong direction.
Jack stood among the carnage, his armor pristine despite the violence, his red eyes visible through the visor as he looked across the assembled demons.
"My helmet stays on," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the silent chamber. "Anyone else who wants to test that can join them."
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Then, from somewhere in the back of the chamber, a demon's voice broke the silence.
"Fuck yeah, Jakar!"
The shout seemed to break the spell.
Other voices joined in, demons who'd witnessed the training yard fight and now this, another demonstration of brutal, uncompromising violence delivered with cold efficiency.
"Did you see that neck crush?"
"I Fucking love this guy!"
"JAKAR! JAKAR! JAKAR!"
