Myrda was surprised to see him forming blood onto his palms. She wasn’t sickened by the sight like some people would be, but such an ability was still undeniably within the realm of unsettling, as if there was something inherently unholy or wrong about it. Of course it was clear that this being was of such a nature before displaying this foul talent, given his penchant for wanton murder. As her blade clashed against his blood she found it stopped. Her eyes narrowed. This fight was growing more troublesome by the second. The muscles in her sword armor bulged and glowed with energy as she forced against him. The man wouldn’t be able to withstand her for very long, but the man didn’t give that clash much time at all before moving onto his next attack, a forceful kick to her stomach that caused it to cave in. “Gurk!” She grunted, flying backwards into the wall with great force. “I’ve just about had enough of you,” she snarled, her hair falling disheveled around her face. She would make a move to power walk towards him, this time thrusting forcefully towards his chest. If he grabbed onto her blade then she would yank him forward and try to punch him in the face with her free hand.