Without hesitation, all of the assassins moved their hands toward the small pouches hanging from their waists and legs, and with fluid, practiced ease, they unleashed a storm of deadly projectiles. Hundreds of senbons coated in gleaming, viscous poison burst forth, raining down in a lethal torrent meant to blanket Asher from every angle.
The shrill sound of air splitting apart reached Asher's ears, the hiss, the shriek, the violent tearing of atmosphere as the poisoned senbons sliced through the forest. "How familiar," he mused, almost entertained, before vanishing entirely from his position in a burst of impossible speed.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
