He took that opening to disarm Phyfee, knocking the sword right out of her hands and into the air. Dolemeck was quick to catch the blade in mid air, despite how it burned his skin and brought him pain. Now holding both swords, he crossed them, making them look like an open pair of scissors. Without a second thought, Dolemeck rushed Phyfee, pinning her against the wall and driving the blades into the wall, one on either side of her neck.
Dolemeck held the handles of the blades tightly, with a single move, he could slit her throat or go as far as to cut her head off. But he refrained, despite his desire to destroy her for her crimes. He snarled a little, eyes still a bright red in color, and his pupils looking like that of an animal, just two black slits.
"Your sword is not the one you claim, liar!" He growled, looking Phyfee straight in the eyes. His language having switched back from old English to English... but it was heavily accented. "It burns me, but a pathetic Iron Sword can best it! As much as I desire to make you a head shorter than you really are... I will show you some mercy on behalf of my King. Stop this foolish quest of yours and surrender to police... or else."
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