Is it hubris to not question the capability of an adversary? Undoubtedly, it is, but is it not a lack of ability that governs such a fallacy? In the first place, if that hubris was not misplaced, but justified by unwavering confidence in one's self and experience, wouldn't that weigh out foolish contradictions such that 'hubris' became 'certainty?'
Winter liked to think so.
She was not one to belittle an opponent, but it didn't mean she'd belittle herself and ignore her own strength.
The masked man before her struck an imposing image to the common man or woman, but Winter still recalled the masked faces of the White Fang prior to Vermillion. The contrasting differences eventually superimposed over Cursed Arm and helped ease Winter of her doubts.
"Step aside, Penny," Winter called again, this time physically placing the air-headed friend behind her while keeping Cursed Arm in sight.
Specialist Standard procedure in civilian evacuation mandated that Winter not engage in full-fledged combat until after the civilian was escorted to safety.
Tilting her head, Penny ran programs through her mind that recognized what Winter was doing before moving her body to hide in an area clear of the immediate battlefield.
Winter nodded to herself, somewhat perturbed that Cursed Arm had yet to act. Most villains would have attacked before Penny could clear the area, but Cursed Arm appeared to consciously wait. Did he have a soft spot for children and adolescents?
If so, it was remarkably human.
'All Champions of Dark were once heroes.'
The words Qrow and Raven had shared in the detailed reports came to mind, causing Winter to frown.
Winter did not know what story Cursed Arm had, nor did she have the leisure to care. All Cursed Arm was right now was a terrorist siding with the Grimm, intent on treating mankind as an enemy.
...And enemies were to be put down. That was all.
Letting out a breath, the cartridges around the elegant handle of her rapier revolved and revealed the handle of a secondary blade. This would not be a normal operation, as she'd been warned enough about Cursed Arm's supposed danger. From the start, she would go full throttle with permission for lethal force.
Glyphs formed around Winter. Frost and white vapor poured out into thick mist that chilled the skin. Other glyphs crackled with lightning, acting in tandem with water to conduct the electricity through a medium. Beneath her, the ice crawled over her feet, forming blades that resembled skates that reduced the friction of her movements.
With a deft movement, she pulled out the hilt of her secondary sword and was soon armed with dual sabers, her demeanor shifting into a duelist of the highest caliber.
"En garde," Winter muttered under her breath before dashing forward at breakneck speeds, forward leaning sword poised into a model thrust.
The strike missed, deftly dodged by a minute shift to the right, and angling the body to the side, reducing the striking area.
A vicious counter came afterwards, aimed at her jugular.
Winter tilted her neck back, the blade barely passing over her dilated pupils.
Strands of white hair fell to the ground. Winter, reacting immediately, kicked off with her feet into a backflip. The blades of ice on her soles aimed at the soft underside of Cursed Arm's chin, but that missed too, forcing her to retreat backwards into a gliding halt on her skates.
Narrowing her eyes, Winter quickly danced and weaved like a world class figure skater through a shower of thrown blades.
'Don't get touched by the long arm.' Winter reminded herself while weaving between the sharp steel. The daggers she couldn't avoid, she parried with her sabers.
YOU ARE READING
The Huntsman of Red V2
AdventureGuardian, Protector, Hero, and perhaps something more, that was what he had always meant to her, but to others he was simply known as the Huntsman of Red, Remnant's final hope. This story is not mine, it belongs to Parcasious
