Damn it.

Calcharo’s grip on his own blade tightened. Well, he had been fighting Tacet Discords, to say the least. His body was scarred and bruised, his face was battered and bloodied. He grunts in annoyance as he felt the warm red liquid flowing down his mouth.

He glanced around, seeking help in silence. But to no avail, he slowly stood up, and glared at the last Tacet Discord. But after some time, he finally defeated it, and he slumped down against the tree trunk, sighing in exhaustion.