[1/1d50]
You feel a burst of rage from an ancestor -- the drums intensify. Bloodlust, like an old friend, wraps its arms around you. Your claw of fire bursts from your left shoulder, incinerating the carpet. Your wings flare to life. You devour the air and the moisture, filling the room with heat and fire. It burns bright red, a harsh glow of reflected light.
You do not feel the pain, even as you use your claw to rip piece after piece from Lucille. You do not feel the savage welts and lacerations you make. You do not smell the burning of your flesh and the floor around you. Nor do you cry out when you pull Lucille's spikes from your bones. There is nothing -- nothing but this minute of blood and pain. You gaze doesn't waver from Magnus, your anger doesn't falter, and it drives you to pull yourself free of Lucille, splattering the room in your own blood as you drag your shredded body to the terminal.
[48 vs 5]
"No. You can't-- The Plague --" You begin to murmur, swaying, unfocused -- lost in rage. "These people...need me."
"[You said your name was Pheonix Sol? Which do you prefer? Patches, Pheonix, or Pheobe? It doesn't matter -- I'm coming to kill you. Not Alphira. You.]" He's smiling, his eyes are all alight with joy, and he begins to squeeze his palms together. "[Get stronger! This is going to be so much fun! You're insane! That murderous intent -- that bloodlust! Oh Cephie is going to get a reward for this! I know that oily little cannibal is nearby. CEPHIE. ENTER.
[16] The door gives a beep, and Cephie stiffly enters with a grit of her teeth. She goes pale when she sees you, her eyes widening in shock. Her lips purse, her breath deepens.
"You did well! I'll wire a reward to your family this instant -- I'll give you more when I fight her!"
"Let me go...I ca--don't leave me here."
"You!" You growl through a bleeding throat -- KILL. Kill...kilkilillkill.