I raised my hands in an awkward stance. I'd never been trained in hand-to-hand combat—not even Kushim knew much of it. But I'd watched enough fighters to get a rough idea of what to do.
Squaring my chest toward the kobold, I braced myself, planning to throw it the next time it lunged. If I couldn't use a weapon, maybe I could choke it out.
As I focused on its movements, the pressure in my head surged—more intense than before. What had started as a gentle stream after the seal's removal now felt like waves crashing through my skull, a maddening roar flooding my ears. And with every death around me, it only got worse.
It was a litany of voices, speaking in a tongue that felt like a sister to my own—close, familiar, but wrong. The meanings twisted, just out of reach.
While I was distracted, the kobold struck me hard across the neck. One of its claws snapped off in the impact, but not before it tore through a section of my chainmail. No blood yet—but I had a feeling that wouldn't last.
Using the momentum from the blow, I swung with my opposite hand—my gauntlet slamming into its snout. I felt teeth shift, maybe break. The kobold whimpered, then reared back for another strike. I rolled aside, hitting the sand hard. My ribs and back howled in protest, but I forced the pain down and refocused.
I considered swinging again, but before I could decide, my right arm moved on its own. Instinct. It grabbed my warhammer and swung it in a low arc, catching the kobold's back leg with a solid crack. It shrieked and stumbled back, limping.
Something inside me spiked—like scratching an itch I hadn't been able to reach for years.
I moved faster, energy surging through me as I scrambled upright. My weapon felt heavier but more alive in my grip. Even though it wasn't the best tool for the job, I readied it. The kobold and I traded blows—mine backed by armor and a little technique, its strikes fueled by raw fury.
It was losing. My hits had softened it—its movements were growing erratic, wounded. I pressed in, confident, nearly euphoric from the power behind my swings.
Then it made one last, desperate lunge—aimed straight for my throat.
I raised my arm to block, and its jaws clamped down—through steel and into the flesh beneath. Pain exploded down my arm. I dropped my warhammer with a grunt, panic starting to claw its way into my chest.
I punched it in the snout with my left hand, over and over—but it didn't flinch. Its eyes were wild. It didn't feel the hits anymore.
It yanked at my arm, digging deeper. My vision blurred. If it crippled me here, I wouldn't stand a chance against the goblin next.
I reached up with my thumb and jammed it into the kobold's eye. My gauntlet tore into the socket with a sickening squelch, and I ripped downward. It finally let go, screeching in agony.
I seized its throat with my right hand. My anger drowned my panic.
Blood poured freely down my arm—but I barely noticed.
Then I saw it.
Where my fingers touched its flesh, the skin blackened. Smoke curled from the contact. It lurched one final time, tried to bite again—but I clamped my other hand over its snout and held it still.
It cried out once, a short, broken sound… then went limp, still cooking in my grip.
My heart thundered in my chest. I felt flushed. Heat pulsed through my body in waves, like it was trying to escape my skin.
I let go and stared at the kobold's body.
The storm in my mind—the raging river I'd been trying to keep at bay—suddenly calmed. For the first time in what felt like forever, my thoughts were clear. Focused.
I knew, without a doubt, that what I'd just done was only possible because the seal was gone.
I exhaled hard inside my helmet. The air felt thin. Stifling. I needed to lift the visor, needed to breathe—but the moment I even considered it, a rock bounced off my chestplate.
More followed.
Despite the fact I'd just saved their lives, the prisoners were hurling anything they could get their hands on. Stones, bones, broken bits of wood. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was rage. Maybe they didn't care what I had done or why—only that I was still the one holding the blade.
The crowd, on the other hand, roared with approval. They didn't know what they'd seen—too far away to catch the details. Whatever power I'd just used was hidden behind the haze of distance and the gleam of steel.
Maybe they thought the smoke was just part of the spectacle. Maybe they mistook the smell for charred meat.