Whoosh!
The last hooded figure released his grip from the window frame and landed on the ground.
He remained crouched for a brief moment, breathing heavily. The descent had been reckless, but he had made it.
At least, that was what he thought.
The moment he raised his head, something enormous filled his vision: a massive butcher knife, already descending toward him.
His pupils contracted as he saw Undead Garron standing before him, its enormous body blocking the narrow alley while its blade came down with enough force to split a person apart.
There was no time to run, and barely enough time to breathe.
Reacting purely on instinct, the hooded figure plunged his hand beneath his robe, and two daggers appeared between his fingers.
He crossed them in front of his body, welcoming the incoming attack head-on, believing that if he could stop the first strike, he might find an opening to counterattack and escape.
"Die!" he shouted, pushing both daggers upward.
Clang!
