All he had to do was shout, "Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne!" Kill every living person present, and then accept divine favor. Better than standing around here killing brain cells.
"Think about it, Roka. If you want to blend into the group, you have to fight for The Emperor..."
Roka moved to help Celes. He picked up a chainsword from the ground and charged forward, but what greeted him was not the attacker's lethal blade, but a heavy kick. He was sent flying, his body crashing into a table.
Roka saw it clearly. This man's blade had deliberately avoided him. Though he did not know why the man was showing him mercy, Roka decided to turn it into an advantage in battle.
The chainsword buzzed. Roka always found the right opportunity to place it in the path the attacker's blade had to take, forcing him to alter the trajectory of his attacks.
An irritated growl came from the attacker. He was deeply displeased by this battle where he wanted to cut but could not. Seizing another moment when the attacker withdrew and changed his move, Celes thrust her long blade beneath Roka's armpit and into the attacker's shoulder. With an upward sweep, the arm fell to the ground.
With only one arm left, the attacker could do nothing but defend himself under Celes's fierce assault. His sharp, aggressive slashes could no longer be displayed with a single blade.
"Enough, Drazhar. We have what we came for. It's time to go."
Drazhar heard the order and launched one final attack at Celes. As her long blade pierced his chest, he left a deep wound across Celes's abdomen as well. No great gush of blood erupted—only droplets of golden blood trickled out.
"Saint! Are you all right?"