Their footsteps were almost drifted away by the silence, but that was not enough to hide from him. It was his arm that's hurt not his ears. Within ten yards, if they dared to come in, he would dare giving them what they wanted, death. Suddenly, the big iron blade vanished from its rusty scabbard on his waist and reappeared at the level of his face together with clangs of metallic clashes. Two small daggers tipped into the ground before him. The fight had started. Without wasting any time, he dipped his fingers into blood soaked on his clothes and splashed it into thin air. Foreign words were uttered. Drops of blood stretched out into hundreds of pointed silver arrows heading off in every direction before him.
The huge blade was thrown out into midair.
“Fazhier!,” he called out its name.
The blade split into several small blades. Within the same second, figures of shadows jumped high over the trees to get off the directions of the arrows, unfortunately, deaths were awaiting right there for them. The blades dashed through their hearts, executed every single one of them.
1.JPG)
