'This brat… he's getting faster and faster…'
The Celestial Transcendent inwardly assessed.
Davis's scythe darted in wherever a fist withdrew, wherever a palm opened or closed, carving thin lines across knuckles, wrists, the edge of a sleeve.
None of the wounds were deep as the flesh was simply too thick and dense because of the chaotic body, yet each one blackened, spread, and gnawed by ghostly yang death energy, but there was something more cruel, more vicious, as though the cuts themselves were becoming their own kind of Law, ravenous and persistent.
A strange clarity dawned on Davis's mind amidst the chaotic clangs.
His body moved before his mind fully caught up.
The black-yellow scythe in his grasp blurred, appearing to be no longer a single curved blade swinging in an isolated arc but a storm of edges, each swing bleeding into the next without pause, causing the Celestial Transcendent's momentum to shatter and go into a defensive scramble.
"Wha-"
