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A brilliant golden blade of light swept across the ground, gouging a deep scar into the frozen earth. Remo darted aside with practiced swiftness as fighting spirit coursed through his legs. The subtle gleam in his eyes was a sign of his potential. The sword that had just passed him by stopped abruptly; this was how he had managed to evade the attack so easily.
With a flick of his fingers, Remo drew several steel daggers from the satchel at his waist. They snapped forward, each release punctuated with a crisp metallic clink.
Unlike Black Benn, Remo was a different kind of weapon. If Black Benn was the raging engine of war, slaughtering masses with firestorms and sheer indomitable will, then Remo was the razor's edge—a dagger sharpened for the express purpose of striking down a single strong foe.
His flying blades curved unnaturally in the air, veering at impossible angles. The grand knight's fighting spirit shaped itself into invisible rails, guiding their deadly course. They came at Edward from every side, in a storm of steel weaving through the air.
The instant Edward raised his shield, a single blade surged forward...
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