Through the darkness, the scent of copper spilled into the air, staining it with its metallic aroma. The stench was pungent, caring a harsh sensation welcomed by death.
Altair stared at the bodies before him with unfeely eyes. Their faces, unaware of his blade sinking through their flesh like hot butter. It had been easy. And it was growing easier with each swing of his sword. As was the chime of his system that sounded with each kill.
[Aros Slaver Felled. Exp Gained]
[Aros Slaver Felled. Exp Gained]
"This makes… Eight." He counted to himself, taking his leave without another thought as he moved with the shadows. Finding comfort in the darkness, Altair stepped into the hall. His footsteps were so light that the motion sensors could not perceive his existence. He was focused, like a beast bearing down on its prey. From room to room, blood followed the Prince's blade till his face was painted red, and his eyes glinted a scarlet hue.