Arvan's attack was erratic and unpredictable. No one could react. All they could do was stare at the ice blades moving far too fast, as they sliced through the air toward them. And in an instant, screams erupted.
Three knights and a servant fell to the ground, blood gushing from gaping holes in their bodies. The same fate met the bandits, seven were killed outright, and two were injured. Several trees around them shattered, adding chaos to their already broken formation.
The knight commander froze in place. A long gash stained with blood ran down the side of his helmet one of the blades had passed right beside his cheek. His body trembled. Slowly, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva and turned to look at his master, whose expression remained indifferent, as if he hadn't just killed his own men.
He murmured, "Yes, my lord." Then he turned toward Thorne, drew his sword, and shouted to the other soldiers, "Kill them all!"
At the same moment, Thorne yelled, "Defend yourselves!"
