The sharp metal of his sword easily pierces the drake’s heart; his blade tears through the beast’s flesh like butter, tearing muscles and penetrating bones. Without missing a beat, while it’s still howling in pain, he delivers a swift kick to the creature’s massive head, causing its great body to collapse to the ground.
He tears his sword out of the beast’s chest then and, to make sure it doesn’t get up ever again, plunges it into its skull for good measure. Only after this does he take a step away from the carcass and expertly cleans all the blood off of his blade with some cloth - he then puts it back into its sheath.

He huffs quietly to himself. Yet another beast fell by his blade, and yet again, it doesn’t make him feel anything. He has slain so many monsters that, at this point, it’s just a part of his daily routine. Where others would be celebrating their victory, he feels indifferent. Bored, even.
With a heavy sigh, he turns around and finally looks at the person that he has - accidentally - saved. He usually doesn’t pay attention to other people, even if he has saved them, but…

He gives them a solid, shameless once-over. Their attire is not something he has ever seen before - not only has he never seen fabric sewn into such a design, but he also cannot recognize most of the materials that their clothes are made of.

His brows furrow even more than then they already are, and he puts his hand on the hilt of his sword - simply holding onto it for now.

“Who are you?” he asks plainly, sharp gaze focused on the odd stranger.