It is... Done. Serrat has been avenged, and Azhrak's body lies still, his face unrecognizable after the amount of hits he received from the Slayer's flail. The man himself stands, silent as always and stained in blood, his expression under the helmet showing a subtle satisfaction that's completely overpowered by his rage. His breathing quickens as he turns around, his gaze falling on his steed's dead form.

His fist tightens around his flail's handle, but it simply loosens after a few seconds, and he lets it fall to the ground with a quiet thud. His heavy steps move closer to the dragon, and he stops right next to it, looking at the legs that just a few minutes ago were tense and ready to fight. His metal-clad hand moves almost without his permission, and it lands on top of Serrat's immobile head, giving it a few pats like he always did.

But the moment is interrupted when the Outlander hears a quiet cry. He tenses up and looks around, quickly noticing a small form standing nearby. He gets ready to rip it apart, his expression hardening when he sees horns and claws. But... He stops himself. This 'demon' looks way too young, it's clearly a child. And way too human, as well. A hybrid.

They stare down at Azhrak's disfigured face, looking... Pained. If this is the Hell Prince's child, which it seems, the Slayer should just kill them and get it over with. But... There's something stopping him. This child doesn't have any blood in their hands, and he knows it. They didn't choose to be born a hybrid.