With every swing of his blade, he grasps the hilt tighter; with every parry, his resolve more profound. The utter savagery of the display paralleled to that of his prey, surpassing it shortly thereafter. This ascension from man to monster could only be fueled by the hate, vengeance, and conviction which dwell within him.

His sword drawn, he dashed again toward the Drakin, dodging the barrage of flame and debris. There would be no stopping him by these means, which the Drakin quickly realized. Arriving in range, he pulled his sword back, and lunged. The massive beast?s scaled claws posed little resistance as it tried to defend itself. The blade alone, longer than the wielder is tall, becomes a juggernaut once swung. Through the beast?s claw, and then its neck, the sword carried out its deed for the wielder. Wounded, it broke away, spread its vast wings, and took flight. Then, with a thunderous pound, it fell from the sky. The Drakin was slain.

Standing over the carcass, victorious, the man drew a knife from his belt. Making incisions in the creature?s armor, he scoured the innards. The ritual, though seemingly barbaric, bore fruit from the creature?s chest ? a Drakryst. The flesh of the beast immediately disintegrated into ash, leaving only the bones. Stashing the jewel in his satchel, he securely sheathed his sword upon his back, and continued his trek through the sands.

In this world, few things strike fear into the fiery hearts of the Drakin, let alone any man. The man of exception is known only as Stadric.

With every swing of his blade, he grasps the hilt tighter; with every parry, his resolve becomes more profound. The utter savagery of the display paralleled to that of his prey, surpassing it shortly thereafter. This ascension from man to monster could only be fueled by the hate, vengeance, and conviction which lay within him.
His sword drawn, he dashed again toward the Drakin, dodging the barrage (barrage describes debris better than flames) of flame and debris. There would be no stopping him by these means, which the Drakin quickly realized. Arriving in range, he pulled his sword back, and lunged. The massive beast?s scaled claws posed little resistance as it tried to defend itself. The blade alone, longer than the wielder is tall, becomes a juggernaut once swung. Through the beast?s claw, and then its neck, the sword carried out its deed(word choice, maybe 'intent'?) for the wielder. Wounded, it broke away, spread its vast wings, and took flight. Then, without a thunderous pound(word choice, maybe 'cry', or something alluding to it?), it fell from the sky. The Drakin was slain.
Standing over the carcass, victorious, the man drew a knife from his belt. Making incisions in the creature?s armor, he scoured the innards. The ritual, though seemingly barbaric, bore fruit from the creature?s chest ? a Drakryst. The flesh of the beast immediately disintegrated into ash, leaving only the bones. Stashing the jewel in his satchel, he securely sheathes(sheathed?) his sword upon his back, and continues(continued?) on his trek through the sands.
In this world, few things strike fear into the fiery hearts of the Drakin, let alone any man. The man of exception is known only as Julius.