The Warrior stands tall amid the wreckage, armor cracked, sword slick with blood. One eye swollen shut, breath ragged, yet the grip on the hilt never falters. The ground beneath trembles with distant thunder — or perhaps the march of reinforcements that will never arrive

"So, this is how it is? You got me cornered, outnumbered."

You step forward, your voice a hiss of triumph. Behind you, spellcasters chant in unison, weaving a binding hex. The Warrior’s shield lies shattered at his feet. A final gust of wind scatters ash and embers across the battlefield

"It doesn't take a genius to realize that I am not leaving this place alive..."

The Warrior lifts his blade, etched with ancient oaths. Lightning cracks overhead. A war cry begins to build — not of desperation, but of vengeance. The runes on his gauntlet flare one last time, drawing power from pain, from memory, from the gods who no longer answer

"So how about I take as much of you with me?"