We tumbled to the ground. My arm pounded, and I felt the wounds that had stopped bleeding not too long ago tear open once again. The battle was atrocious, but I was clearly at an advantage.
My opponent was weak. I wrestled him to the ground much easier than I'd feared and pushed the conjured bread deeper into his mouth. His muffled scream barely reached me, but his widening eyes certainly did.
For a moment, I felt bad. He did not deserve to be killed just for asking some questions. Then I saw beyond the farce the soldier had put on. There was the same coldness I'd noticed at first. I thought it had faded, but the soldier had only concealed it.
He wanted me dead. No, he would have had me killed. The reasoning eluded me, but it did not matter as I drove the Bloodleer thorn deeper into his neck.
