Sezel gasped, his every muscle screamed with torn, white-hot pain. That last blow had sent him skidding down the tiled corridor like so much broken glass.
The beast shrieked in pained madness, the rage of losing its arm and the pain of its own scythes gashing its abdomen was driving the monster crazy, with what little intelligence it had. His one remaining eye, as black as coal, fixated on Sezel.
The Flesh Reaper was in no mood to let his opponent leave this place alive, after all, it had cost him his arm. Without much time to groan, Sezel stumbled back to his legs. The katana still held in his hands, a fleeting anchor in the sea of death.
The beast crouched its legs a little, and with a blur of motion, launched itself towards Sezel with terrifying speed, the scythe lined in front of it, aiming to cut the body of the human in half.
