Sword Saints

It was an outrageous scene. A boy standing before a monster. He should be cowering, limbs shaking, eyes watering, but… no. There was only the sharp eyes of a predator. And it was not the monster. It knew that. It could clearly see that. The eyes-! It was the prey. There was nowhere to run. Not for the monster. So it struck instead. Made the first, desperate move to save its life. Whipping it’s poisonous tail at the boy(?). But the boy. He only tapped his shoulder once. A glow surfaced around him. Ten colours. Ten enchantments at once. Then he drew his shortsword. One moment the poisonous end was about to impact, then the next it was gone. Cut in half. It didn’t even have time to process the pain. Only the experience of countless battles saved its life. Following its instincts, it dodged - but not fast enough. It’s nose was cut off. It roared. Without it’s poisonous tail, there was only its claws and fangs. Its eyes whipped about, trying to find the predator. To sink it’s claws into him. It could barely follow him; he moved so fast, leaving only a supersonic boom. But by the time it struck, he was gone. Its clawing motion just wasn’t fast enough. That sealed its fate. At the end, it was cut into ten pieces. Slabs of meat ready to be brought back to the capital. The boy was covered in blood. Not his, of course. Not even a drop. The soldiers who witnessed the battle shook in their boots. (Who is the real monster here!?) they all wondered. The boy said nothing, thought nothing. He only cleaned his sword and moved on to the next kill.