Fifth

Israeal was almost akin to a slumbering beast. When he stood there, unmoving, it felt like nothing could make him change his pace of living. He liked the quiet cold; he liked his stoicism.

But when he attacked, he seemed to have changed entirely. Sharp, fast, bloodthirsty.

His expression was much the same, but the echoing crimson of the scimitars that suddenly appeared in his palms, or the flash of ruby that formed as his third eye opened, all underlined a sinister air that hadn't been there just moments before.

A devilish man in the truest sense, hiding behind a façade of calm before erupting like a volcano.

With a step, he seemed to have already crossed the distance between himself and Jala.