The shifting of Famine's balance suddenly increased in an attempt to keep up. Eventually, its movements looked no different than trembling.
Dyon's opaque white eyes, his unbridled sneer, his body crackling with lightning… It felt as though the true God of Judgement had descended from the skies, making even Famine feel inferior.
Dyon's sword passed through Famine's defenses, tearing across in steed's foreleg as sending a rain of gray blood onto the floors below.
He brandished his sword once more, sending forward another strike.
His body glided across the marbled floors, using the pouring blood no differently than a surfer would the tides of the ocean.
With another swift motion, he lopped off a hind leg.
The black knight toppled from his pedestal, flipping through the air with his hands still pressed together in prayer.
