The convict ran his hand over the blade, drawing blood and dying the steel scarlet. There was a whistle followed by a thud. The sword, despite being imbued with a skill that could cut through stone, could not cut the wood shrouded in flame.
“Second Form: Cover.”
Spinning his staff, Ash knocked his opponent to the side and hit him in the stomach. There was a sharp cry, followed by the smell of burning flesh and a clatter of steel hitting marble. Ash grabbed the unarmed man by the hair and, turning toward the king, held him up like a hunter presenting their prey. Garangan looked impressed; his eyes were glimmering with anticipation. Arthur, on the other hand, was just waiting to say goodbye to his dinner.
“I did as you asked, my Lord.”
“Not quite.” Garangan smiled. “Finish him off.”
