For a spider, she was impossibly fast. She flowed across the floor, Requiem blurring in intricate, deadly arcs. Fin found himself purely on the defensive, his earlier confidence shaken by the sheer lethal presence of the bone weapon.
His blade met the scythe again and again. Sparks flew – bone-white against emerald green. Each block sent jarring impacts up his arm, each parry required precise timing and footing. He wasn't fighting back, merely dodging, weaving, using the blade to deflect the killing edge by the barest of margins.
She was relentless. A slice aimed at his throat forced him to duck low. A sweeping horizontal cut aimed to bisect him made him leap backward. A sudden upward thrust nearly took off his arm.
He was faster, perhaps, thanks to the Mana Cell, but her skill with Requiem, honed over unknown eons, was terrifying. She anticipated his dodges, flowed around his parries, always pressing, always aiming for a killing blow.
