Forged Destiny [Book 6: Ch. 13]

The girl was fast, I'd give her that. Faster than me. Compared to someone like Blake or Ruby, however, she was incredibly slow. Compared to Pyrrha, her attack was incredibly telegraphed. I'd put her somewhere around Level Twenty at a guess. Give or take five or six levels. Enough with the Stat Distribution to take on any member of the Labour Caste her own level. Enough that with her companions, she'd have no difficulty destroying a small village like ours.

But not enough to take on a Hero. Or someone who fought like one.

Rather than parry her twin strikes, I stepped into them, letting them hit my shoulders early, before they had the proper swing or strength behind them. The woman gasped and leapt back, but it was already too late.

She screamed as Crocea Mors carved through her left thigh, cutting the limb off entirely. The woman slumped to the floor, blades flying away. "N-No," she cried. "I-Impossible. This isn't possible." She turned, dragging herself with both hands back towards her commander, who was no longer laughing. His eyes were wide, his mouth open. "H-Help me!"

There was no helping her. She'd already taken a fatal blow and would only continue to bleed out. I gave her the only mercy I could, a swift stab through the back of the neck and a twist. The Blade Dancer slumped, dead.

—Forged Destiny [Book 6: Ch. 13]