Theron's short sword drew blood, slashing into Blackmaul's wrist enough to nick his skin but not enough to sever it from his arm.
Blackmaul couldn't believe that even so focused, he still failed to kill a Silver Mancer, but this didn't deter him. It only made him focus more. If he could still suffer when giving his all, this was a true test of life and death.
The blackened wings on his back spread out, blocking the path toward Serenya and Ilyssia. If nothing else, Blackmaul was the ideal teammate, not letting his fear dictate his actions, nor his previous mistakes chain into new ones.
He retreated a single step, pulling his club from the ground to attack again, but Theron had become his shadow, keeping close despite the vast gap in speed by taking a shorter path.
His feet moved like the wind, but his rhythm was akin to streams of water. Flexible and relentless, he swung his blade again and again, smooth and seamless in his actions.
