With a determined gaze, William took a deep breath and launched himself into the attack once more. This time, he seemed utterly resolute; his eyes showed not hatred, but pure resolve—the determination to risk his life for a single goal.
With steady steps, he advanced, executing what he remembered. For a moment, his mind went blank, as if he had fused with the sword.
The first strike was clean and low, an ascending diagonal from hip to hip.
The second, a brutal downward slash, aimed straight to cleave a skull.
The third, a swift, tense horizontal cut, targeting the neck.
The fourth, a pirouette into a reverse thrust, using the momentum as if dancing with death.
The fifth, a direct, unadorned, merciless stab to the abdomen.
The sixth, a deceptive feint transforming into a backhand slash to the side.
The seventh, a wide, sweeping arc to throw the enemy off balance.
