Berserk

Lucius's eyes, once a calm shade of determination, now blazed with an uncontrollable rage. It was as if the very essence of the berserker legends of old had found a vessel in him. The bindings that had held him, strong as they were for any ordinary man, could not contain the surge of sheer, raw power that now coursed through his veins.

With a roar that echoed the feral intensity of his wrath, Lucius tore the ropes apart, the fibers shredding under the force of his strength. The bandits, taken aback by this sudden turn of events, barely had a moment to register their shock before Lucius was upon them.

His movements were a blur, each strike delivered with a precision honed through countless battles, yet fueled by an anger that was indiscriminate and total. Lucius became the embodiment of vengeance, his hands weapons of destruction that found their marks with lethal efficiency.