Four minutes passed since Moon's transformation.
Four minutes of relentless, one-sided pressure against the two Surpasser assassins who had opened the exchange with confidence of a sure kill. Four minutes of the dark organization desperately trying to peel Moon off them, and failing at every attempt.
Both assassins were still standing, but barely.
The first one had lost his nose just a few exchanges prior. Moon's sword had caught it during a Tempest Symphony sequence, one of the phantom strikes drawing the guard while the real cut slipped through the opening the phantom had created.
Blood still ran down his upper lip in a steady sheet, dripping off his chin and pattering onto the rubble at his feet.
The second one had lost his left ear. Moon had taken it during a follow-up exchange, deliberately mirroring the angle of the strike that had removed his own arm.
