Chapter 45: Shattered blades,fallen Moons
As Menma and Vel'Merath crossed blades, the clash echoed through the battlefield like the tolling of war bells.
Sparks flew, and pressure built with every swing.
Suddenly, with a swift flick of his wrist, Vel'Merath's weapon fragmented—multiple blades shooting off the handle and moving independently, like a swarm of sentient razors.
They attacked without hesitation, guided by Vel'Merath's mind alone.
Before Menma could react, one of the blades slipped past his defenses and stabbed deep into his back.
A sharp breath escaped his lips as pain bloomed through his torso, but he didn't fall.
His eyes flared with crimson rage. The demon blood within him surged, answering the call of pain with fury.
He reached back and, with pure brute strength, grabbed the embedded blades.
They trembled violently in his grip, trying to escape, but he didn't let go.
Menma held onto them, growling through clenched teeth. "You think that's enough to stop me?" he muttered, then lunged forward.
With a fierce roar, he raised his sword and aimed directly for Vel'Merath's neck. The strike was ruthless and fast—an executioner's blow.