THE HARDEST: BREATH OF PHAEDRA: FLORIAN COMRADE

Untitled Part 1

"I await your return slayer of demons," went the maiden's voice.

Slicing through the air, reach the monster and each blade in the spin has chance multiple times to slash into flesh and shortly recalled to the hand. Engage foe after foe in daylight outdoors with nothing more than what slices the air, the glaive.

Battle instincts previously lent the good sense to survey the environs. Outdoors of attractive design, well-manicured greenery and clean walkways, the monsters couldn't help but lend a dreary atmosphere too. Concentrating on visuals now would prove fatal, his battle spirit devoted to facing down the host. The castle grounds serve as battlefield, for a backdrop a castle that lay in dominating over watch.

The man mid-twenties and white featuring average stature.

Leaves the hand, flies true to sever the arm of an inrushing beast at the shoulder. Hadn't gotten close to him. The triple edge is directed sideways to cutaway at a fellow monster's chest. A feat conceivable by the handy cord between the hand and blade. When thrown trails a thin cord behind, connected to his index and middle fingers to manoeuvre aspects like distance and height and the tri blade generates lift allowing flight. Moving his extended arm left or right controls those lateral directions.

The spinning tri-blade returned to his hand, caught. The man repositions himself and tosses; the thrown instrument flew and tripped up a monster's legs in the distance. Finger movements directed the glaive to pull back some, hover a bit, change direction and pummel the next target's face. As he runs ahead recalls it back, adjusting its course to intercept his hand, a technique of coordination.

The ebb and flow of this clash. The enemies trying to hold him at bay, his every dynamic step taking him bit by bit closer to the castle.

The weapon is thrown sideways, takes a course in a half circle and sticks in a monster's back, flying from behind. The man isn't aiming to battle the entire throng. He runs forward ensuring passed close enough to the fallen to not pause their stride as its pulled out quickly whilst running past.

With this reached the impassable bridge, halting his progress. Thinking on his feet, pondered throwing the glaive into the surroundings, hook into something and pull himself across. As this went on the swing bridge moves. As he watched swings across sideways connecting its two ends to the path, nobody seen operating it, all the same trots across the span and left monsters behind. He ends up in more of the expansive grounds.

Before he could advance toward the castle proper, the size more imposing because closer. Without warning a summoner enemy appeared and like that manifested around half a dozen creatures, while they themselves hung back. The glaive must fly again.

The man performed a complicated dance of throwing his weapon to single out an enemy, recall the tri-blade, evade attack; slightest loss of focus and the opposition could end him. Portion of their number extinguished, the warrior changed tack adding some brain power – aim not for the summoner, the obvious play, alternative a toss of the glaive skyward, sliced off a tree branch, the fall of which slammed into the main enemy. With that the remaining creatures vanished.

Walking briskly, shortly halts – he's at the ground's edge and here a water moat surrounds the castle. The wait miniscule for the castle's drawbridge lowers over the moat. Easily enough walks across. Definitely in spite the monsters somebody or something wants him progressing toward whatever beckoned ahead.

Barriers haven't exactly gone. A portcullis at the wall - heavy vertically-closing gate, the form a latticed wood piece. The contraption raises and he enters the beast's maw, immediately past it a narrow passage.