Maui stood frozen when she witnessed what Byung had done, axe hanging loose at her side, eyes wide as she watched Byung finish the last of the three orcs with the same casual brutality he might use to swat flies.
The first had died before he even knew the goblin was there, knife through the throat, a wet gurgle, body dropping like a sack of stones. The second had turned just in time to catch Byung's fist in the jaw; the crack of bone was louder than the orc's scream, and he flew backward into the wall hard enough to leave a dent before sliding down dead. The third managed a single desperate swing with his axe, but Byung caught the haft mid-air, twisted, and drove the orc's own weapon through his chest with a sound like splitting firewood. All three lay crumpled in seconds, blood pooling thick and black in the darkness.
