With a flourish , the blade folds in on itself , becoming nothing more than the hilt once more .
" ๐๐๐๐ง๐'๐จ ๐ฃ๐ค ๐ช๐จ๐ ๐๐๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ข๐๐ . ๐๐ค๐ช ๐ ๐ฃ๐ค๐ฌ ๐ ๐ก๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐ก๐ ๐ข๐ค๐ง๐ ๐๐ค๐ง ๐ฃ๐๐ญ๐ฉ ๐ฉ๐๐ข๐ , ๐๐๐ฉ๐๐ง ๐๐ก๐ก . "
Crouching down to the elk's level .
After half a minute he has an idea . Pulling the blade away , the mark on his off-hand glows as he redirects the elk's attacks with a sudden gust of wind , sending him stumbling .
It earns a little "hm" of amusement from the masked swordsman .
// Thinking about Corvo and Ketheric ... their similarities and where they branch off . Both fathers who succumbed to darker forces for the sake of family , but only one gets to walk away with his daughter ...
Ethereal , dark whispers plague his mind . The mockery of a self-proclaimed god , the lament and sorrow of a dearly beloved .
... A moment of peace seems so far out of reach , clenching his fist in annoyance .