The Weeper had far less time than he would have wanted to lament the pain he had caused the young man before he found himself in a ruthlessly precarious position. Despite the bullets striking true at least twice Mikael was hardly slowed as he barrelled towards the swordsman, albeit zigzagging, and so the masked man was forced to retreat a step and lower his pistol, useless at such a range.

As he skipped backwards and settled low, almost crouching on his back left leg, he swung his blade across from right to left in a vicious horizontal cut, which would hopefully make contact with his foe’s rapidly approaching hips or lower torso before he could bear down on him with his energy ball.

If the shortsword was insufficient in at least clearing space, let alone levelling the charge, then the Weeper would have no choice but to take whatever attack his foe had in store with such a close range approach on him. Though if he had simply tried to launch his projectile The Weeper wouldn’t be standing still for it, that much was certain.