As four crimson blade arcs came at him at once, Chris and his echo swung their swords together.
In that instant, time seemed to stop before his eyes again.
It let him catch, from the corner of his eye, the arrows streaking in behind the Mirror Image Blade.
For any focused warrior, that part was easy.
The hard part was moving fast enough to turn aside every threat in front of him.
Not everyone could do that. Fortunately, Chris and his echo were both quick enough.
If he could see an attack, he could parry it.
In a daze, he saw faint strands of spider silk appear in his vision. If he followed their paths with his blades, his four scimitars could block the Mirror Image Blade and sever both arrows—
I can do it.
He was certain.
Even if the fight remained a stalemate, he only needed to hold out until he found a chance to escape. Then he could summon his companions hidden underground and turn the tide.
When that happened, the woman's brain would be theirs. Time passed, and his slow breathing remained steady as he focused.
His scimitars began to follow the paths he had chosen, Verdant Flame winding between them.
But just as he confidently moved to meet the Mirror Image Blade, its crimson arcs multiplied fourfold!
Sixteen blade arcs howled before his eyes like a sudden storm. The rush of air reached his ears alongside a light, lilting voice:
"Whirling Sword Dance."
"What!?"
Chris stared in horror at the paths he had traced like strands of silk. The sixteen blade arcs had shredded them all!
He hurriedly pulled his echo in front of him to block, but the storm of blades had already struck his arms, shoulders, chest—everywhere he could not defend.
The blows