No time to think, no time to flee; the torch in my hand, burning a lilac-colored flame, whipped over the head of the Galgor, aiming at my neck, cracking the torch in two at the sheer force of the blow. At the same time, Laevatein pierced towards the undead below, forcing it to halt at the sight of my oncoming blade, while the unlucky Galgor above was swatted away like a fly before its claw could graze my neck.
Sweat dotted my brow as Azazel's blade hung like the reaper's scythe around my neck. One wrong move, one wrong decision, and it would be over. I'd be dead.
My shoulders tensed, and my legs grew bent as I took to the air leaping two meters in a single bound over the Galgor, who'd stop at the sight of my blade. I landed beside the staggered Galgor, whose charred face cared a hollow expression of nothingness. My sword plunged through its skull with ease, but before the notification of my kill showed, I twisted my waist and swung the dead Galgor to block the incoming strike.
