The fractured battlefield quaked as Sunny landed on the white bone, instantly dashing away with a thunderclap. Surrounded by a billowing mantle of shadows, he was like a formless mass of darkness that moved around the formidable figure of the King of Swords, aiming to end the King's life.
His black sword was like an omen of death, and at any moment, his dark mantle could bloom with tendrils that shot forward at dire speed, turning into sharp blades, clawed hands, or rattling chains.
The blades aimed to pierce Anvil's armor, the inky-black hands tried to pull him down, and the chains tried to bind him.
However, instead, they shattered against the dark steel of his impenetrable armor, were cut down by his swords, and were torn to pieces by his ferocious strength.
'What a bastard.'
