Death's head tilted slightly as he regarded the newcomer.
"You should have stayed hidden," he said. "Knowledge means nothing when death already knows your name."
"Then come test that theory," Kant said coldly.
He spun his staff once, chains erupted from patches of shadow that appeared in the air, lashing out towards Death.
Death met them head-on, his scythes a blur.
The first swing cleaved through the nearest chain, shattering it into black dust, but another wrapped around his wrist, pulling tight. Sparks burst as he dragged the chain taut, cutting it with a single twist of his blade.
They fought, moving too fast for mortal eyes.
Death spun low, slicing across Kant's knees, but a chain shot from the ground, coiling around Death's ankle and yanking him sideways.
Death fell backwards, but his aura reached out like a storm tide, erasing the shadows the chains were born from. Then, he pulled back, swinging.
