"I don't hate you," Fnil told the man with the jagged, swollen scar ripping down his face, from brow to chin. She took a step back from him, her hand tightening around her still-sheathed sword. "Actually, I have no feelings about you what-so-ever. Which is why this isn't personal. You understand, don't you?" he looked her over with one dead, clouded eye, and one twitchy, skeptical one. But he said nothing. "Well, fine then," Fnil said, pulling the sword from its home and slashing it through flesh and bone in one impossibly fast and forceful beheading motion, ending it.