Fall back, turn, dodge—then swing.
The Power Sword sank deep into one of the Death Guard's two hearts, but Cato Sicarius felt no joy at all.
His face was calm as still water as he sidestepped and dodged again, letting the traitor's heavy Power Axe swing spend itself in vain. Storm Blade came free of the Death Guard's wound with his movement. Sicarius steadied his footing, somehow found fresh strength, and rolled his wrist, making the blade cut through the fetid air like flowing water, severing the traitor's left hand.
Though his strike had landed, he did not press the advantage. Instead, he withdrew warily. The traitor remained where he was and began to pant in a low voice. "That. All?"
"Save your strength, traitor. Look around you. You're losing."
Sicarius spun his sword in a flourish. The Power Sword gave off a dangerous hum, constantly revolving with his movements. The motion seemed showy, but it held endless killing intent. He mocked, "You ambushed us, yet you were driven back from the very start—tactical success, it seems, cannot cover up inferior combat ability, Death Guard."
The one-armed traitor did not answer his taunt. He merely let out some low whimper from his throat, like the howl of a beast. Sicarius's heart tightened. Several dangerous data streams flashed across his goggles, and the Glyph Array's warning followed: "Witchcraft!"
"Don't even think about it!"
Cato Sicarius roared, strode forward, raised his blade high, and brought it down with both arms. A head then flew high into the air, but what sprayed from the wound was not blood. It was some kind of tiny pitch-black particles, now drifting through the air. After barely half a second, The Void began to gather, giving off a tremendous buzz.
Flies. A swarm. Call them whatever you