A perfect blade glints beautifully beneath the spanish sun, until it makes first contact, dirtying the reflective edge with the flesh of the enemy. The first kill goes unnoticed, but the second is in plain sight, invoking panic in spectators. As the guard collapses, convulsing with agony, people scream and flood the exits. Surely many will be trampled in the evacuation. At least Wolf, our hero, hopes so. He stands, his katana now lined with slight crimson, in the dusted arena where the bull had just been slain, his face veiled by the simple grey mask for which he is named.
The matador, dressed in traditional bull fighting apparel, stands i
A perfect blade glints beautifully beneath the spanish sun, until it makes first contact, dirtying the reflective edge with the flesh of the enemy. The first kill goes unnoticed, but the second is in plain sight, invoking panic in spectators. As the guard collapses, convulsing with agony, people scream and flood the exits. Surely many will be trampled in the evacuation. At least Wolf, our hero, hopes so. He stands, his katana now lined with slight crimson, in the dusted arena where the bull had just been slain, his face veiled by the simple grey mask for which he is named.
The matador, dressed in traditional bull fighting apparel, stands i
