"Who dares spread such rumors!" Hiro barked, looking at Ludwig's companions as if for a culprit. They were all wearing defensive gestures, hands up, stances angled, which read to the riders as reluctance to fight the church.
"Rumors?" Ludwig smiled wider. "I was there to witness it, now show me what you got, Coward of the Holy Order!"
"You motherfucker!" the hero howled and charged toward Ludwig, sword raised high. Holy light flared along the blade, bright enough to sting the eyes; it thrummed with power, the kind meant to cow crowds and sanctify theater, and he brought it down in a gleaming arc.
A brutish, animalistic slash, without form or posture, without any ounce of martial prowess. It was nothing but a brute slash. For someone who had years to train, this was an embarrassment to witness.
