PREVIEW

... ugh 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 ...

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