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Solo scraped long claws over cold stone walls that could never dispel his unease. Overhead the sounds of slaughter resounded, death cries of one familiar voice after another. He grit his teeth now fangs until the bitter tang of iron flavoured tongue. Faint traces of smoke burned nostrils far more sensitive than usual, shrivelled lungs brimming with it as the crackle of flames grew louder.
Muscles stiffened as a quiet click echoed across the tiny room, heightened nerves singing as the lone wooden door slowly creaked inwards. The human silhouette standing in the gloom backlit by golden flames was not one he recognised. That alone pealed warning bells in his mind, prickled unruly hackles as the figure approached, key in hand.
To wait in silence for the thud of the second lock could not have been harder to endure. Not even this bolstered form was strong enough to carve through steel, and every roaring instinct begged him to snarl at the red-clad intruder idly gaining ground. This man couldn't be entirely human – not with the way his every nerve hounded him to fight, to kill. To leave him mangled and broken and preferably unmoving.
At long last the cell door grated along stone before him, and without a second thought, Solo lunged. Vicious fangs sank deep into flesh and bone as he latched onto the monster's shoulder, wide claws shredding rich fabrics as they rent his chest. His adversary grunted in surprise more than pain, but did not attempt to shove him off. Solo kept swinging, jaws clenched harder, but as the shoulder between them creaked beneath the pressure, he realised that which bothered him so.
The monster bled. Monsters didn't bleed. Acrid copper permeated the little cellar, more mildly monstrous than most, and for a single instant he breathed harshly through his maw. In that moment the man slipped unbothered from his slackened deathgrip, and dusted off shredded clothes that hung loosely past lines of dark red blood.
Solo... let him go, despite his murderous instincts.
“You're not truly a monster, are you?” a shockingly smooth voice asked.
“Nor you,” Solo growled.
Psaro the Manslayer – for who else could he be, that name mockingly announced across their once quiet village – rearranged ill-fitting tatters with a tiny hum as if he had not just been mauled. Finally, unbothered crimson eyes landed on his own. Solo's hackles rose again.
“There is not a monster alive who does not revere my title. Who are you, human?”
Solo scowled defensively. “A nobody.”
“A nobody.” There may have been a sliver of dry amusement in that affected tone as he scanned about the room, lined with barrels and casks in varying states of disarray. “Not a soul would imprison a nobody in a musty wine cellar. You're the fated hero, aren't you?”
Solo maintained his silence. This man would likely cut him down regardless of whether he agreed or denied it.
“Wolf got your tongue?” Psaro sneered, and oh how wicked teeth yearned to tear him limb from limb. “Well, no matter. Should you feel the same as now when next we meet, you are welcome to challenge me then.”
A low growl slipped from his maw as Psaro turned his back on him, that sadistic sneer lingering in his mind. Solo watched him ascend those cold stone steps only to pause in the doorway, the tilt of his chin back towards him masked by the fall of silvered hair.
“...When you have harnessed enough strength to do me harm.”
A snarl rumbled throughout the tiny room as claws gouged wretched stone. “You will die by my hand, Manslayer!” His declaration echoed deafening as the grind of claws about the tiny room. “Mark my words and rue the day!”
Psaro turned more fully towards him now, a wicked almost-delight lighting up once soulless eyes. “And I will welcome it, Hero.”
Sticky half fermented wine gushed and oozed about matted paws as oakwood splintered beneath them, the wicked claws on trembling hands unable to reach his own flesh. Even with a monster's unwelcome strength, he had not stood a chance. Golden eyes seared imaginary holes into the back of that bastard's neck as he turned apathetically towards the calls of his minions.
That monster would come to regret letting him live.