The broken corpses had not yet fallen when Max moved again.
He stepped diagonally and thrust forward.
A plain and direct stab pierced through the chest core of one puppet, then continued through the body of another standing behind it. Sparks and shattered metal burst outward as both collapsed.
He twisted his wrist.
A common upward cut rose from below and split the next puppet from waist to shoulder.
Every movement he used was simple.
Slash.
Thrust.
Parry.
Step.
Cut.
Turn.
Reverse strike.
Nothing he displayed was glamorous. They were the most fundamental sword motions imaginable.
But the terrifying truth was that Max had mastered those basics to a frightening degree.
He knew exactly where joints were weakest. He knew precisely when enemy momentum could not be withdrawn. He understood angles, timing, spacing, rhythm, and pressure with instinctive clarity.
The Combat Puppets immediately responded.
