The sky above the battlefield was gray and heavy.
Cold wind blew across the white land as snow slowly began to fall.
Duke Sant flew through the air as fast as he could. His cloak whipped wildly behind him while the wind roared past his ears.
Behind him—
47 chased like a shadow of death.
The distance between them was not large.
Not large at all.
47's cross shaped helmet tilted slightly as it watched Duke Sant trying to escape.
"If you think you can get away with just speed alone…"
47 slowly raised the black scythe in its hand.
"…then you are very mistaken."
The blade hummed softly.
Then—
Whoosh!
47 swung the scythe through the air in a wide horizontal slash.
For a brief second nothing happened.
Then the air itself tore apart.
A dark crescent shaped wave burst forward from the blade.
It looked like a black moon.
The energy rushed forward with frightening speed.
The air around it turned cold and heavy. The moment it appeared, a terrible feeling spread across the sky.
