The dust and smoke from the herd's stampede still hung in the air as Rize advanced. Her body seemed to glide across the ravaged field, each movement swift and precise, as if dancing among the demonic beasts. She didn't wait for any order—now that Vergil had given the signal, she surrendered herself to the kill with an almost artistic pleasure.
The first bull raised its horns to try to impale the girl. Rize didn't stop; she twisted her body sideways, the black blade appearing in her hand like a natural extension of her arm. A single cut—clean, clean—separated the creature's head from the rest of its body.
Demonic blood sprayed, burning the ground with sulfuric smoke. She was already on her second target before the first body fell. With a swift leap, the blade slammed into the beast's neck, the weight of the impact tearing flesh all the way to its chest.
