<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 18px">Alexander Takashi</span><br/>
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</div></div>Alexander exhaled a long deep breath through his nose as the final lamia head thumped to the cave floor. Blood was slowly soaking through his ragged clothes and he was beginning to wonder whether or not it was mostly his. A cough forced its way through his mouth and he spat out a wonderful mixture of blood, mucus, and bile next to his beheaded enemy. His vision shifted in and out of focus as he leaned on his hand and a half sword for support, attempting to wipe the blood from his face with his free hand and only succeeding in smearing more gore into his cheek. Gathering whatever strength resided within him, he turned on his heel and stumbled out of the cave.<br/><br/>Adrenaline seemed to drip away from his limbs and slowly feeling began to return to his extremities. The pain began to come back as a gentle reminder before becoming a rising crescendo of constant waves, forcing him to think of the mistakes that had caused these injuries. He knew he shouldn't have gone alone. He knew he shouldn't have dove into the fight knowing he was heavily outnumbered. Though the threat of death and injury never really seemed to stop him. He probably would have continued this line of thought if it weren't for the fact that his body was barely responding to his commands and his mind wanted nothing more than to descend into darkness. Instead, he kept pushing.<br/><br/>The edges of his torn black coat scraped against the forest floor as he headed in no particular direction. Strands of hair obscured his cold blue eyes that scoured the scenery. Blood continued to drip from his chin and pooled wherever he stepped. The hope of survival began to disappear with every moment until something flickered in his vision. Lights dancing around a silhouette of what he assumed was a person broke the darkness of the trees surrounding him.<br/><br/>"Someone... help..." He croaked, his voice leaving him. It felt like he was swallowing gravel and spitting acid from his throat. Once more he tried calling out, his mouth making little more than a whimper before the sword he was using for support slipped from his grip. Consciousness soon evaded him as well and soon he followed the blade, crumping on the brambles around him.