Berserker's rage was building.
His expression twisted, and his movements began to get sharper. Fury radiated off him like heat.
He hated the Hargraves Bloodline. Every drop of it.
He hated Zagreus, not just because he interrupted the battle, but because he wasn't a warrior.
Zagreus didn't fight with his own strength.
And now he was interrupting his battle with a warrior.
But more than anything, he hated what Nameless Death had become.
Berserker's strikes grew faster and heavier.
His steps shattered the ground.
Nameless Death had the potential to become a true apex death warrior, someone worthy of carrying, of correction Death to the correct path.
But instead of choosing domination and war, Nameless Death had backed away from it.
He had picked peace, and coexistence.
Disgusting.
This wasn't just about the fight anymore. Berserker was reminded of 'him'. The one who betrayed what it meant to be Death. The one who preached balance.
