Death - Block and slice

"On your heads be it, then."
Death dropped into an impossibly low crouch, right knee bent, left leg extended out behind him, bent so sharply forward at the waist that his dangling hair brushed the soil. And in that instant, when every one of the angels' shots arced overhead, before they could even think to adjust their aim, Harvester ripped itself loose from the soil.
The Horseman leapt. Impossibly high, as swiftly as he himself boasted a pair of the angles' feathered wings. The scythe met him at the apex of his flight.
And then he was falling, twisting in the air beneath and around the soldiers' constant fire. He spread his arms, and held not one single weapon any longer, but a pair of scythes—neither nearly half as long of haft as Harvester's unified form, but each with a blade nearly as massive.
He hit the earth, feet embedding themselves in the soil, and both scythes spun. Behind his back, one of them deflected a burst of cannon-fire, slinging it high into the canopy above, he hadn't even turned to look.
Before him, the other scythe made three complete revolutions. The first sliced the angels halberd in half. The second removed both arms at the elbows. And the third cleaved him cleanly from right hip to left shoulder.
Death had come around to face the remaining pair before the top half of the body slightly completely free of the lower.

***

Chapter 3