The Middle

With blood staining their cloak, the figure stepped out of the bar, their presence casting a sinister shadow amidst the chaos. Outside, the streets of Tolk were a tapestry of panic and fear. People scrambled in every direction, their voices mingling with urgent warnings and desperate pleas to flee.

Some, in a courageous act of selflessness, warned others of the impending danger, their voices strained with urgency. "Run! Get to safety!" they shouted, attempting to shield innocent bystanders from the figure's wrath. Others, motivated by a determination to protect their town, rushed to seek help, determined to halt the figure's vengeful path before more lives were lost.

Without a backward glance, the figure strode forward, leaving the chaos of the fleeing townspeople in their wake. Their path was set, their mission to exact revenge propelling them forward, heedless of the consequences.

The figure acknowledged that their initial approach to exacting revenge may have been inefficient. However, when they witnessed the people of Tolk seemingly going about their lives, oblivious to any wrongdoing, an overwhelming surge of anger consumed them. Without hesitation, they lashed out, driven solely by their unyielding desire for revenge.

In the figure's mind, the manner in which they achieved their goal held no significance. The lives of others became inconsequential in the face of their all-consuming thirst for retribution. The figure became consumed by a single-minded focus, convinced that the pursuit of revenge surpassed any considerations of morality or personal consequences.

The figure delved into the depths of their cloak once more, this time retrieving a handmade firebomb carefully crafted for maximum destruction. With a flick of the lighter, a small flame danced to life, illuminating the figure's face with an eerie glow.

In a swift, fluid motion, they hurled the incendiary device towards a building where unsuspecting individuals sought refuge, their misguided belief of safety shrouded in ignorance.

As the firebomb soared through the frigid air, its trajectory guided by the figure's vengeful intent, a sense of impending doom permeated the surroundings. The flames danced with an insidious hunger, eagerly embracing the building's wooden façade. Time seemed to slow as the explosive device found its mark, crashing through a window and igniting a cataclysmic chain of events.

Within moments, the building erupted into a conflagration of chaos and terror. The reassuring sanctuary that the occupants had sought was transformed into a fiery inferno, swallowing their hopes of safety whole. Panic ensued as cries for help mingled with the crackling of flames, painting a harrowing tableau of despair.

Clutching the two remaining firebombs tightly, the figure's calculating mind weighed the consequences of using them at that moment. They realized that deploying the remaining incendiary devices would jeopardize their chances of ensuring that none escaped their quest for revenge. The figure's desire for a more personal and intimate encounter pushed them to forego the use of the firebombs for now.

With a determined stride, the figure advanced toward a door where more people sought refuge, their fear palpable behind the barrier. Positioning themselves in front of the door, the figure's honed instincts and relentless training took over. In a swift, explosive motion, they unleashed a single kick, channeling their strength and focus to shatter the obstacle before them.

Even if the door was reinforced with sturdy metal, it proved no match for the figure's unwavering determination. Their relentless pursuit of revenge had endowed them with a formidable prowess, enabling them to break through even the most formidable barriers in their path.

As the door crashed open, the figure stood in the doorway, a menacing silhouette framed by the chaos that awaited within. Their gaze bore into the terrified eyes of those huddled inside, a haunting reminder that no one could escape the reckoning they had brought upon Tolk.

Amidst the cries and pleas for mercy, the figure remained unmoved by the desperate entreaties to spare the innocent, including the children. Their finger tightened around the trigger of their gun, poised to deliver a swift and merciless end. However, before they could enact their malevolent intent, an unseen danger alerted their senses.

With instinctual reflexes honed by their relentless pursuit of revenge, the figure swiftly evaded the imminent threat. A blade of wind whistled past their position, narrowly missing the defenseless individuals they had intended to harm. As the figure turned to face their assailant, they beheld a man with graying hair, his countenance hardened by experience, clad in formidable plate-jacket armor with a saber sheathed by his side.

Without hesitation, the armored man launched himself toward the figure, delivering a powerful kick to their stomach with an incredible force. The impact was staggering, propelling the figure backward thru a door, their body soaring through the air for a distance of approximately 15 feet into another room. The air whooshed out of their lungs as they crashed into the unforgiving ground, momentarily dazed by the unexpected attack.

As the figure regained their bearings, their eyes locked onto their formidable adversary. The man stood tall, a formidable presence radiating strength and resolve, an unexpected obstacle in the figure's path of vengeance.

As the name "Sir Leger" reverberated through the crowd, a flicker of recognition passed over the faces of those who sought refuge. Relief washed over them, their terrified expressions morphing into hope as they recognized this man as a beacon of protection. "I'm sorry for being late. Many lives were lost to this monster before I arrived," Sir Leger expressed with a tinge of remorse in his voice, acknowledging the tragedy that had unfolded before his intervention.

However, the figure, consumed by a maelstrom of confusion and paranoia, lashed out, accusing Sir Leger of being aligned with their enemies. "You! What you just used... They used that too. You are with them, aren't you?" The figure's voice dripped with accusation.

Sir Leger, puzzled by the figure's accusation, maintained his composure, his eyes fixed on the figure's advancing form. "I do not know what you are talking about," he responded calmly, his tone resolute. "But your atrocities end here." With a steadfast determination, Sir Leger braced himself for the imminent clash, ready to defend the innocent lives that hung in the balance.