"A whole flock," he muttered, counting five Ashfeathers soaring through the sky, their crimson eyes locked onto his figure.
It was far from ideal to be attacked by several abominations at once, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice. It was bound to happen sooner or later — and if so, it was better the battle took place on his own terms.
Acting like their kin, the Ashfeathers dipped low in unison, cutting a smooth arc as they accelerated.
Azrael gripped his scythe tightly in anticipation.
Then he moved.
He dashed to the left, his scythe already flaring through the air, its edge tracing a deadly arc meant to sever everything in its path.
The first two monsters missed him by a large margin, the third and fourth by a hair's breadth. But the last one was quite unfortunate. Due to its blinding speed, it wasn't able to change course or slow down in time. As a result, it flew straight into Azrael's strike.
[Corrupt soul has been devoured. The taint in your soul grows darker.]
