Sunta rose again and glared at me.
Mud and filthy swamp water dripped from his hair and face, his nose was bleeding, one cheek was swollen from the slap, and his chest heaved like a broken furnace trying to stay lit. But the idiot still looked angry. In fact, he looked even angrier than before.
Good.
Angry people fight stupidly.
And this guy was already stupid.
"SUNTA… KILL YOU!" he roared, pounding his chest again like a gorilla who had recently failed an IQ test.
I sighed and rolled my shoulders, stretching my neck.
"Honestly," I muttered, "you're really dedicated to humiliating yourself."
"Your goal should be reach the mountain and yet you are here getting yourself fucked."
However, all of my words fell into deaf ears and he charged again. This time there was no hesitation.
Just pure barbaric violence.
The swamp shook as his massive feet slammed into the ground. He swung both fists wildly, smashing through branches and bushes like a bulldozer with emotional issues.
