The owl hooted alone, an ominous sound echoing in the cold night around Lake Zafir. It was like a harbinger of the approaching death.
Leonard, with silent steps, approached the bridge of Besen but hesitated before crossing it. He remained in the shadows, observing the intense movement in the village.
The bandits were there, desecrating the ruins of Besen in force.
Seeing them, Leonard's heart raced. A cold, almost cruel smile touched his lips.
"Time for a cleanup..." he whispered, a mere thread of a voice.
Despite the words, there was no remorse or guilt. Only an icy, murderous intent, an unusual desire. "I have to take out the trash," he thought.
Seeking to control his powers in the best way, he crossed the ruined bridge. Walking carefully, using his advanced cognition to avoid any misstep.
Board by board, he calculated.
Perfect.