The heavy door of the carriage creaked open as Zarius stepped down, his boots crunching against the fine gravel. The air here was thick, clinging to his skin with a humid heat that felt vastly different from the sharp, biting frost of his home. He paused for a moment, his hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his sword, his senses reaching out into the dense treeline that flanked the highway.
His first thought was of a monster, some high-level beast that had strayed too far from the dark forests. The sudden, violent stop of the horses and the primal fear radiating from the animals usually signaled a predator of immense power.
Yet, as he closed his eyes and let his aura expand, his gut feeling told him otherwise. There was no scent of sulfur, no erratic mana of a crazed beast, instead, the wind carried the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood and the rhythmic, coordinated clatter of steel hitting steel. This was a human slaughter.
