Then, Ned…
"Die!" Three blades tucked between the fingers traced a silver waning moon in mid-air. Ban laughed coldly as he launched his attack. However, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone- whether unintentional or deliberate- his movements, although harsh, were not quick; they were significantly slower than when he had previously clashed with Caron.
In Ned's mind, the past snippets came to an abrupt halt. A tinge of bitter smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly felt somewhat annoyed—it seemed that death, indeed, would grant you some extra time before it's inevitable descent, but certainly not enough to let one die with eyes closed.
[Forget it. I'm tired anyway. Let's just let it be...]
Refraining from any further thoughts, the man- who had once been a farmer, a laborer, a mercenary, and most recently served as the captain of the Marshal Autonomous Army- spread his arms, bracing himself for death.
But the shy Miss Death did not instantly favor him...
