Silas's nerve broke when the sword clattered to the ground. He pulled with great strength, cutting the man's head clean off while kicking him away. The spurting corpse covered the late man's friends, who ran away in horror. Silas breathed heavily, his eyes looking slightly feral and his mouth set in a pained grimace. On closer inspection, one would notice that his canines had grown slightly more pointed and elongated. Hidden by his fists, his nails had grown into small claws. Wiping his blades on the man's trousers, Silas sheathed his scimitars and took a few deep breaths, controlling his blood lust. He'd spent many years in the forest perfecting this technique, to better control the beast within.
When he felt normal once more, Silas turned back to Akkina, slipping an arm around her waist again. "Should I retrieve your blade for you?" he asked, ignorant of the origins of the Holy sword. Using his foot, the young man hooked his staff and kicked it up to his hand in one fluid motion, never jostling Akkina.