Damian hands Master Jamie one of the cutlasses. "No, Master. The swords are a base for two of my more powerful spells, and I really only technically need one." Running after the trio who'd sprinted into the village, the blades he'd summoned earlier still orbiting like a protective shield. He couldn't believe how casually he murdered people, nor could he believe that people existed who were twisted enough to keep the dead alive, preventing their eternal peace. There were lines, even for dark guilds, that shouldn't have been crossed.

Driving the cutlass into the ground, he takes a corner down one of the paths sharply, yanking it free as he finished the turn and continued his sprint. He wasn't going to let anything else hurt these villagers.