Breathing heavily, Makharat looks down at the results of his handywork.
" When the demon power overcomes me, it can be, difficult, to tell when enough is enough, " he says, wiping off his bloody swords on the tablecloth before putting them back into their scabbards.
Reaching up to tug as a piece of the peeling skin on his face, he suddenly doubles over as the pain of his wound catches up to him.