[@Snarfulblast]
The murloc dashes forward, propelled by pure rage. Drawing twin daggers it seemed to completely ignore the threat of Shiro's blade, making it's way straight towards the stairs to Kiyoki. To Shiro the movement seemed to happen in slow motion. He could feel every breath, every heartbeat, every muscle as it moved. He knew exactly where Blarg was going, and he knew exactly how long it would take. It was a sense far superior to light-based vision. And as he moved, he felt some small part of him wondering. Had he left his humanity behind, when he had chosen to become an agent of death? Was he more than human, or less? Had he truly ascended to a superior being, as Kiyoki had assured him he would? Or was he merely a glorified blade, devoid of human emotion?

In the end, of course, it didn't matter. Human or demon, he served a single purpose, and a single master. And that master was the Emperor.

Steel moved through flesh like a knife through butter. An inhuman screech was instantly drowned out by the cheers from above. Blarg crashed to the floor, and, moments later, he was joined by his right leg. The limb had been separated in a single, smooth motion. With almost surgical precision, Shiro had anticipated and countered his movements. And yet, it seemed he had shown mercy. For instead of striking for the head, he had chosen to sever a limb. Shiro sighed, as the shadow clones dissipated around him, the spell broken by the sensation of agony. He could never have been fooled by such a silly trick, and he was not an obstacle to be underestimated. He held his blade to the creature's neck, and looked for some sign of intelligence. Of fear, recognition that it's life now hung from a single thread, that it's rage had cost it everything.

Shiro was moments from murder, and it would take a small miracle to stop him. If nothing was done, and nobody intervened, Blarg's life would be forfeit.