It began crumbling behind him as he exited the building, the cloud around him allowed the larger debris to pass through. The dust, however, was pushed aside by the slight winds produced by the spinning cloud. Without staying his pace he continued through the building to witness the crashing of the man who was the source of his interest. 

Myriad debris flew towards the marching goliath's body in cascading waves, molten metal and burning scrap flung against him. It clattered against his skin with a metallic thump, tinkling away from his form harmlessly. No matter how much force the Ruler's land had mustered, the flying chunks of worthless matter carried negligible harm. Though a single piece had found itself lodged between his two forwardmost teeth, a discomfort at best. A sharp blast of smoke erupted through his teeth, sending the chunk flying away. It shattered a nearby window, it continued onwards and stuck itself into a self portrait of a poor artist whose home was currently on fire.

A show of force. Force? Yes, a show of force. Used by warriors to show their power, or show power they do not have. Hide their weakness behind a veil of strength. Yes.

A coward's trick. Coward? No. Fear? No. I don't feel this from him, sick excitement? Yes. This man is powerful, how powerful? Wait, he speaks.

The man before the giant spoke, spoke of death and collection. A hunter seeking prey, was this man a hunting ruler? Ruler of hunting? King of the Hunt?  Perhaps. 

"Kill? Me?" Though his voice boomed with a thick wash of sarcasm, he was not hiding any distaste of the warrior before him. It was curiosity, all of the Baron's words were laced with spite and hatred passively. "Perhaps. Though what have you to offer? Are you but another killer who slays all in his path? Or are you hunting me specifically? Or am I a settled choice?" Speaking with calm but cruel demeanor, no human features on its visage to express its curiosity. The Baron slowly walked towards the Ruler of the Xenom. Its eye drifted towards the weapon he was wielding, a cleaver. Sizes too large for him, but intimidation is a war tactic. 

Some compulsion drove him to sweep his hand through the cloud, a blade mirroring the Ruler's own emerged from within. A size larger, enough to fill the enormous hand of the giant. "A sword for a killer, is it not? A wicked edge, cruelty lacing its every atom. How many have fallen before your blade?" With a few practice swings, he unseated a streetlight. Nowhere near as effective as the true blade, though it was still a blade with a razors edge. The size of a single cell at the cutting edge, it would suffice. 

All weapons suffice. 

Weapon. Back to his weapon, back to his bloodshed.

"You spill blood, why? To feel powerful? Or to flex power? Are you so weak in mind that you must be strong in body? Or do you feel that your power gives you the right?" It hadn't stopped moving towards him, and the distance between them was not great.  "Or perhaps. You kill those who oppose you out of fear. Fear that perhaps they might emerge victorious?" 

The Baron punctuated his words with a sudden halt, a meager distance for even normal sized men. They were close, and The Baron was silent now. Waiting for a response from the warlord.