The battlefield was never a good place to be.

Cinders and smoke clogged the once cloudless sky, the ground watered with crimson offerings and smothered with the bodies of the fallen. War was never good, it was never kind.

Being captured by the enemy was a common tactic, baiting out more forces. Perhaps the enemy was inexperienced this time with the Order of Heroes. They certainly would've just surrendered if they knew who was coming.

Of what was coming.

He was kneeling on the floor, attired stained as always. His hands were clutching Skadi, at the ready and alert. Not that he needed to be, not anymore when he had eliminated them so quickly. So heartless, because mercy was not something he knew. An enemy was an enemy...he learned the hard way that the truth of that fact will never change.