Paigo laughed between strikes, a deep guttural sound that echoed like a beast's growl. The sound of his fists slamming against flesh and stone drowned out everything else. Each punch smeared his face with more of the boy's blood until Paigos looked less like a man and more like some monstrous butcher lost in the joy of slaughter.
The boy's body twitched weakly, no longer able to fight back. His wooden sword had rolled away, forgotten, as he gurgled on his own blood. Paigos showed no sign of stopping. If anything, his pace quickened, his fists pistoning downward with merciless rhythm.
The students around the circle trembled openly, their eyes wide with horror. Some bit their lips until they bled, others covered their mouths to stifle their gasps, but none dared to intervene. To interrupt would be to share the same fate.
