Jack didn't have the leisure of time to dwell on such a thought.
Before he could dwell on the thought, the bisected ghost began to reform, its body knitting itself back together in an eerie display of resilience.
"Damn it!" Jack spat, his frustration mounting.
The ground beneath him trembled as more banshees began to emerge. Their hollow eyes gleamed with malice, their wails cutting through the air like jagged glass. Each sound carried a weight that clawed at his very soul.
"Oh, shit," Jack muttered under his breath, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the Shadow Fang tighter.
The banshees swarmed him, their shrieks a cacophony of despair. Jack ducked and weaved, his movements erratic as he fought to evade their attacks. Every slash of his blade cut through their ghostly forms, but they reassembled just as quickly.
'This isn't working,' he realized grimly. His strength was draining, his movements slowing with each passing second.
