It was in dark of the abyss that Nãaman locked eyes with the Kràm for the first time- and it would be the last. Killing the horrid creature with nothing but a single swift and deadly thrust of his claymore, blood that smelt like nothing short of a pigs behind engulfing his being, he knew what he had to do. He had to kill the Defender. And in due time he would. But first, someone else had his claymore calling their name and yearning to tear their flesh. Silver.
