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Sometimes, conversations using the fist worked better than conversations with words. When the mercenaries came to Sefira, Keter had persuaded them through that kind of physical conversation, and it had worked well.
What was contained within the punches was not killing intent, nor the desire to win. The strong did not care about reason or logic—for the strong, power itself was reason and logic. Logical persuasion was the way of the weak or of scholars. Showing overwhelming power and making them obey was how the strong persuaded one another.
In the process, the opponent may die, but Keter firmly believed that killing was the easy way. If someone chose the easy path, they couldn’t truly be considered powerful. Being strong and being good at killing were two very different things, and Keter valued that distinction deeply.
“Guaaaagh!”
The flame dog was strangled between Keter’s legs, a flying wolf was grabbed by the hair, and a blade bird was being relentlessly hammered in the chest.
The crowman of the Soul-Stealing Crow Tribe lashed Keter repeatedly...
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