It was high.
Fifty meters at least - as high as the nearby residential buildings. The kind of altitude that should have required wings, or a hover-platform, or some form of Eon-assisted propulsion. The figure had none of those. It moved through the air the way a thrown object moves - pure trajectory, all kinetic energy, no source of lift other than whatever had launched it.
In its hands were two blades.
Curved. Long. Their inner edges dark against the cloud-glow, the outer edges catching the light in sharp metallic flashes. Each blade had a forward-facing spike at its tip, the kind of design that didn't fit any weapon Raizen recognized. Not a sword. Not a sickle. Something that operated on principles he hadn't seen before.
The figure reached the apex of its arc, and began to descend with incredible speed.
And in the moment before gravity took it past their roofline, the figure twisted in midair, brought one of the blades down in a circular motion, and hooked.
