The elusive Fox culled the numbers of the swarm like he was wielding the blade of Death himself. With every slash of his sword, an insectoid was split apart before the image displayed within the shield changed and gave him a view of his next victim. As for the victims themselves, there was little they could do to stop it. For them, Death was an absolute certainty.
Perhaps if they had known what they were up against, they might have had a chance. That was, if they were more than just a horde of mindless beasts. But missing this crucial information, and the intelligence to properly put it to use, they were little more than weeds waiting to be pulled.
All they would see is the glistening reflection of themselves in their kin's water coated shells be replaced by the visage of a grey haired man, then the next second a steel blade would lunge from the carapace and claim their lives.
