Behind her, the mysterious flying swordsman remained silent- arms folded across his chest, coat flapping in the wind, and with his round hat shrouding his eyes and dark features from the moonlight.
Dragging her weight, Monica's feet slithered across the soft grass, bringing herself a foot closer to him.
"Look at you, whimpering like a puppy. . .if I was a man with your size and heritage, I would have been king of Castra city by now!"
She flicked the blade, rotating it by the hilt, bringing the tip forward- pointing it as him;
"You really are a disgrace to manhood. . ."
Under the shadow of the tree, her hand moved in the darkness;
"Maybe, just maybe you don't deserve to be a man. . ."
With a laser-like focus, she placed the tip of the knife on his ball sac- right between both testes.
Paul winced as the icy coldness of the sharp blade came in contact with his skin. He held his breath, not daring to make a single move.
