Faced with impending death, he let go of his sparkling mana blade. His spectral legs bent, cracking the old wooden floor as they launched him forward in a terrified tackle. The wind howled past his ears, his soul trembled, and his face contorted into a grimace as a chilling song of oblivion played out in the air.
The dark scythe's sharp edges glinted the promise of death as they cut through the billowing mist surrounding his frame, cutting it as if it were tangible.
Fortunately, he had reduced the distance just enough for his head not to roll on the ground. His soul shook as the horrifying realisation slammed in; the scythe had missed by a hair's breadth. But he had no time to feel relief.
Carried by his momentum, he lowered his hands, aiming at the man's knees to bring him to the ground. However, he caught the disdainful smirk plastered on the copy's face mid-movement, causing a spark of doubt to ignite in his mind.
