Despair.
It was a familiar emotion for many, and one that should have been only natural to feel at this moment.
But there was a deathly stillness in the heart of Zarek's gaze.
From the start, he hadn't looked for the boy-man once; he didn't even spare a stray thought to revenge, to anger, even to what he might do beyond the second he was still alive to breathe right this moment.
His thoughts were focused on only one thing.
Now that the situation was like this, how was he going to win?
Even as his leg was cut out from underneath him, and one of his arms went flying, taking the tattoos that had been on it with it, the one singular thought that drove him was this alone.
A calmness in the face of death, the echoes of a promise he had made in his last conversation flashing in a distant memory, and yet even it was unceremoniously ignored by Zarek.
