What followed next was one of the bloodiest and most barbaric battles that Eos had ever endured in his life. There were many ways that this fight could have been fought, but Eos believed that it needed to be this way.
To take pain and give back pain a thousand times in return. For so long, a pressing weight on his chest had been growing with no way to find relief, and now in this fight, he was holding back the part of his mind that understood strategy or the bigger picture… he just wanted to brawl out his pain.
Every punch he threw was on the face of one of the people who sat down in their vaunted thrones and planned the death and destruction of countless lives… This may not be the painter, but they were all its tools, and Eos would break them.
The three rolled in the blood-soaked ground. The sight was barbaric and bloody, as their limbs were tangled and gore filled the earth. If the first sentient immortal beings to exist had fought, then it would be like this.
