Malakii could tell the ferocious drow was not only enjoying the bloodshed, but living in the moment it existed. This creature could prove far more dangerous or deadly than any of the abominations of mankind they now faced together in the bar. He would surely have to keep his eyes on him in the future: If there was a future for the two. 

Snapping back into focus; seeing the two brutes advancing once more towards him, Malakii made a split second decision that would forever ring through the small town. He would utterly end the conflict occurring, and leave the establishment to smolder in his wake. He just had to make sure the bartender made it out alive, and that was all he cared for. He set his mind on the task at hand; completely set on the actions to come, as he began stepping forward with silent moves, and concentrating more of the stagnant air between his moving and flowing hands. Like water the air ebbed and flowed freely between his fingers and along the ends of his hands, as he slid into a crouching stance and extended his palms forward. His mind went blank; every lantern and candle left in the bar went out, and a deafening explosion rocked the rafters. A great hole stretched into view before him; where the two men and the back wall had once been, as the air he controlled created an implosive pocket between them and blew them apart piece by piece. Nothing remained, save for some spatterings of blood and some cloth still falling to the floor, as the back wall began to crumble, and so too did the rest of the building.

There was no more time for games, no more time to battle the behemoth men, and Malakii didnt care one way or another if the dark elf escaped. He scooped up the bartender, ran through the hole in the wall, and cleared the scattered debris, as the entire building began its descent into a smoldering pile of dust and ruin. There would be little time for action or reaction inside, but for some reason, the monk knew that the other patron of the bar would indeed escape...