In a murky slosh, I pull my foot from his crushed skull. Wiggling my foot, I attempt to shake off some of the brains stuck between my laces.
Turning around, I begin walking across the stage; yanking his toothpick knife out of my chest, I toss it aside.
As I stretch my back, the last of the flesh wings fold back into the normal position, allowing me to breathe normally once more.
Finally having enough oxygen to have a thought of my own, the blinded rage has receded.
Standing on the stage, my body is covered in blood; my maroon hair has become dyed a more vibrant red as it drips from the ends.
With my dead tired eyes, I look towards the crowd, tilting my head back.
I'm about to pull a Harry Hart and get a kill chain in this church.
My reignited blood lust is interrupted as the crowd... cheers?
"He has arrived!"
"Our lord!"
"You have returned to us!"
Ehhhhh!?
