The ground beneath them shattered, sending chunks of stone flying outwards.
Azrael moved faster than he had all his life. With one hand he wielded the deadly scythe, trying to deliver harm over a large area, while with the other he used his short sword to stab every time the opportunity presented itself.
Despite fighting with its non-dominant hand, the Death Knight blocked every single strike that tried to harm it.
Cinder screeched, flying over the two. Should its crimson eyes take a glimpse at an opening, the bird would dive downwards like a missile. Beak trying to tear the armor of the Death Knight apart.
Yet the monster always seemed one step ahead; with graceful movements, it navigated through the relentless flurry of attacks.
