Klein placed himself in the second rank of the slaves, just as an enemy sword came down on a captive to his left. The blade cut deeply into his shoulder, and the man collapsed without uttering a cry, his body sagging in on itself like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Klein took a step forward to fill the gap, raised his blade and parried the next blow that was aimed at his own throat. The impact resonated through his arm. He countered immediately, his movement simple and precise. The tip of his sword found the opening under the opponent's shoulder, where the cuirass left an exposed space, and sank into the flesh with a dull sound. The invading demon stepped back, surprised, his hand going to his wound while a black fluid flowed between his fingers.
Klein used no power, none of the techniques he had accumulated over the course of his lives. He used only the fencing techniques he knew and the brute strength of his body.
