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He gave the man a hard poke in the chest while smoke wafted from the cigarette between his fingers, then leaned in with bloodlust radiating from every word hissed with his icy voice. “Notice that I haven’t asked your name yet, even though I gave you mine? It’s because you don’t have a name to me. To me, you’re just ‘Bitch’, the sniveling little Bitch who decided to come in here and ruin my evening, talking awfully big game for someone in skull-fucking range. That’s what’ll be engraved on your tombstone: ‘Here lies Bitch. Cause of death: got skull-fucked until his brains leaked out of his ears.’ Shit, I’ll carve the engraving myself. Now I suggest you get the fuck out before I use your eye sockets like a whore’s ass!”

Outside, Roc was engaged in the opening battle of the day, fighting against a talented warrior who could use both shield and sword magic. Again and again, he pounced on his foe, trying to smash through his defenses with powerful kicks and punches. However, even while his limbs were wrapped in mana, he could not break through the glowing tower shield the man wielded. With every attack that failed to break through, his enemy would counter with a slash, able to swing his sword with more speed and force than an average warrior could ever hope to achieve. Roc relied on his wings to pull him in and out of danger, but they were all that was keeping him alive, and he was left bloody from numerous close calls.

“There is another thing. Marcus Berholm is getting closer to discovering my identity, and has recruited Boris Veres to help him. It’s only a matter of time before they need to be silenced.”