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He steps toward Paul, leaning in so close their foreheads nearly touch, voice dropping to a whisper.
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Knight:
"You are going to die here tonight…
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-moment of silence-
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…just like your daughter did."
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Paul lunges first.
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He drives a mallet into the knight’s face mid sentence, slamming him against the wall with force that rattles the shack. The knight drops, slump, blood smothering the wall. Three more knights swarm him — two locking his arms, one clinging to his back.
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Paul lets the mallets fall.
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He kicks off the table, crushing the knight behind him into the wall and breaking the hold. Paul tears free, grabs the man’s helmet, and hurls him across the room, rattling the table on impact.
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He reaches above for the weapons rack.
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Two axes —
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Paul shoulders one knight aside, tossing him like he weighs nothing and charges another, driving him back into the wall. He rips himself loose again, now dual‑wielding axes, swinging with raw, unrestrained fury.
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Armor dents.
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The shack trembles. Shadows whip around the lantern light as the fight spirals into chaos. Traeven sees it — the beast behind Paul’s eyes. No aura. No magic. Just pure, focused malice.
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A knight rushes him. Another leaps in to restrain him. Paul reacts on instinct.
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Paul (roaring):
“EERRRRGHHHAA!”
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He swings in tight, vicious hooks, head low, arms moving like pistons. One knight drops instantly, blade cracking through his helmet into the eyes, blood spraying. Another charges, grabbing Paul from behind — Paul kicks the knight in front of him, sending him sliding across the floor. The knight behind Paul tries to hold him; Paul snaps his head back, bashing the enemy's face, denting his helmet, breaking the grip, then steps forward and hurls an axe. It whistles through the air and pins the attacker against the wall.
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BAM.
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The warm wooden shack is becoming unrecognizable.
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Paul drops his remaining axe and turns toward the last knight.
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The knight stumbles back, voice cracking as he begs. Hands exposed outwardly.
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Knight:(whimpering, pleading)
“Please…”
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Paul pulls off the man’s helmet and ends the fight with his bare hands — relentless, heavy strikes delivering cracks at terrifying speed.
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The knight collapses over the counter, unmoving.
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Paul stands in the center of the wreckage, chest heaving, soaked in sweat from his final fury.
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Traeven grips the doorframe, frozen, ready to bolt.
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Then the largest knight steps forward.
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Sword drawn.
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Paul reaches up and grabs two more axes — one large, one small. He hurls the large one, but the knight deflects it with his blade. Paul grabs another small axe and charges.
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The knight’s sword drives into Paul’s stomach as he barrels forward.
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Paul doesn’t stop.
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He pushes deeper onto the blade, roaring from somewhere primal.
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PAUL:(nasty, terrifying)
EEEEYYYEARHHH!
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He hooks an axe into the knight’s helmet, ripping it free, then strikes again with the other — one decisive blow to the neck, another hand stacks the forehead, dividing the face— A Ruthless Finish.
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A Final Factality.
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Paul collapses to his knees, the sword sliding free as he falls to the floor, coughing blood, gasping for air. The large knight topples forward, shaking the entire shack.
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Outside, the rain softens.
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Traeven stands frozen, breath trembling, then slowly backs out of the doorway and flees into the night.
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