The night was bitter, and the chill was laced with echoes of screams reverberating through the dark. Shadows twisted around the stone walls, stained in a visceral canvas of crimson, the remnants of a brutal clash. The scene's architects stood amid the carnage—a towering orc woman with skin as green as moss and fiery red hair cascading down her back, her presence as fierce as her nine-foot frame. Beside her, a man clad in minimal armor, bearing an air of practiced resilience, held his ground. They were Grimga and Gideon, two warriors bound by purpose and undeterred by will of their master.

Grimga's sharp eyes gleamed with intensity, her stance powerful, an unwavering symbol of strength. She towered over Gideon, her aura fierce yet focused, each breath controlled, each movement deliberate. Gideon, his eyes calculating and steady, held a smirk—a glimmer of satisfaction from their work. The pair had torn through their enemies like a storm, each leaving marks of raw, unbridled force and calculated strikes.

"Damn bastard!" Grimga spat, her voice thick with anger as she brought her massive club down with a sickening crunch on one of the citizens of Noctis, leaving nothing but a bloody, unrecognizable smear in its wake. Her fury was a force of nature, relentless and unmerciful, her club raised and ready to strike again.

A cry pierced the air, drawing her gaze. A mother, trembling, clung desperately to her child, shielding the small, terrified figure with her own body. "Please… spare my child—"

But Grimga's eyes were as hard as stone. With a swing of her brutal weapon, she silenced the plea, the weight of her rage leaving no room for mercy. The ground was stained with a new layer of blood, a vivid testament to her wrath.

At her side, Gideon cast a glance at the scene, his expression unreadable, a flicker of unease crossing his gaze. But Grimga's actions.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Grimga let out a throaty chuckle, her eyes gleaming with a wild excitement as she looked back at Gideon. "You know, you never said when we should start a family, dear," she mused, her tone laced with a dark, twisted humor that matched the carnage around them.

Gideon's gaze shifted to the crimson-streaked ground, his mouth pulling into a grimace. "Dear, is this really a good moment to mention starting a family?" he replied, arching a brow as he gestured toward the gruesome scene at their feet.

Grimga shrugged, an almost playful smile crossing her lips. "Why not? Life's short. Besides," she added with a wicked glint, "who else would make a better warrior's mother than me?"

Gideon smirked, shaking his head. "Let's… discuss this later. For now, let's get through the night, Grimga. Then we can talk about family in less… colorful surroundings."

She laughed, a low, booming sound that echoed through the night. "Fine, fine. But I'll hold you to it, Gideon," she said, turning back toward the citizens with a grin that promised she was far from finished.

As the blood projectile narrowly missed them, Grimga and Gideon turned to face the furious knight. Alaric, clad in blood-splattered armor, stood with fury etched into every line of his face, his sword drawn and gleaming with the dark, menacing hue of enchanted blood magic.

"You damn bastards! What have you done?!" Alaric bellowed, his voice carrying across the battlefield as he gripped his sword tightly, channeling his rage into the crimson energy that pulsed along its edge.

Grimga glanced back at Gideon with a twisted grin. "Dear, it appears the head knight Alaric has finally decided to join the party."

Gideon met Alaric's glare with a mocking smile. "Well, Alaric, nice of you to join us. Just taking a stroll through your quaint little town, that's all," he quipped with a sardonic bow.

Alaric's fury only intensified, his voice quivering with rage. "You're nothing but monsters! What drives you to slaughter innocents, to spread chaos like this? Answer me!" His sword cut through the air in a deadly arc as he lunged forward, his movements fueled by fury and grief.

Grimga and Gideon shifted back with fluid ease, the sword's deadly swing missing them by mere inches.

"Oh, Alaric," Grimga sneered, twirling her club lazily as though she had all the time in the world. "Maybe if you were half as good at protecting your people as you are at giving speeches, you might've stood a chance."

The knight's face twisted, his grip tightening, every muscle in his body tense. "I swear, neither of you will leave here alive."

Gideon chuckled, casting a smirk at Grimga. "Shall we, dear?"

Grimga stepped forward, her grin widening. "Let's dance, Alaric."