"What are you so afraid of? It's one guy against the twenty of us."
"B-b-but, Boss! That sword, that cloak... It's he!"
"He who? I don't care anyway; he won't live long enough for its name to matter."
"All right, everyone, let's show this fool you don't mess with us and get away with it!"
I see them coming, and all I can think of is how I'm gonna end their lives. They don't know that they are already dead, but if they did, is that how they would choose to spend their final moments? I slash, thrust, cut through all them, fast enough for them not to realize their allies are dying in from of them, fast enough for me to ignore their shrieks and expressions of terror.
I live my life in wait of the next battle. Wherever I go, they all tell me that I will burn in Hell for what I've done, like that's supposed to scare me. They don't know that I am already in Hell; and to all of them, I've got only one tip, and that is the tip of my sword.