Forged Destiny [Book 6: Ch. 13]

The first wave of attackers was on us a moment later. I twisted into them, spinning and cutting in wide arcs, trusting my superior Strength to do the work it had to – ignoring my Dexterity entirely. Those that could dodged, but the press of bodies was too much and held them back. Whenever I swung, someone was at the end of my blade. The blood flowed.

It was madness. Bloodthirsty madness. I'd never been in a proper war. Not fighting in it. The Treaty kept us out, kept us safe from the brutality, and the small skirmishes I'd faced otherwise were just that. Me against one or two people, or the entire Guild against a far stronger foe. This was the opposite, and for the first time I was the stronger foe.

It should have felt exhilarating. It didn't. It felt methodical, miserable and cruel. Faces twisted in terror as I fell upon them. Screams were cut off before they could sound, and that was the mercy for those who were able to get it out revealed pitches of bloodcurdling fear I'd never experienced before, nor wanted to again.

And yet I did. Again and again. Because it had to be done.

[...]

Blood ran from me, too. I had no armour and the myriad cuts that dotted my body oozed blood lazily. They burned at the same time, like a thousand angry wasp stings.

—Forged Destiny [Book 6: Ch. 13]