Of course, Oliver wasn't likely to wait there. The tight ranks of a spear wall were vulnerable to breaches as deep as Oliver's. Those lengthy weapons had no business in super close quarters like this.
Oliver's blade painted a red picture. He hacked through a shoulder, his blade feeling even sharper than usual. It bit through both armour and flesh with the same lack of resistance. The next man he cut down with a slash across his stomach, widening the space he had to three. By then, Blackthorn reached him, and just in time – the spearmen were already fiddling for their swords, and with Oliver's recklessness, the flow of battle had been set to spring right back at him.
