They called the kattari blade a punching dagger – small enough to be underestimated, sharp enough to pierce the strongest of armors. At the moment its handle was tightly clenched inside the firm fist of Arjuna.
The three Hayacrian soldiers that surrounded him were bigger in size, and so were their blades, but Arjuna possessed what they did not: precision, speed and impeccable control over his weapon.
He dodged the first attack – a five pronged swing of the enemy blade by retreating as many times, and then ducked to avoid the second attack that swung in from behind. He lay still on the ground for a brief moment, waiting dangerously for the sword bearing hand that rushed at him. It was in a split second that he kicked up his legs, locked them around the Hayacrian, and heaved himself up to thrust his kattari blade into the enemy’s neck.
A Hayacrian chose to grab Arjuna from behind, probably with the intention to crush him in half, but instead found the kattari blade tear through the eye-hole of his metallic mask.
Arjuna dropped from the grasp of his enemy as the latter slumped to the ground; his gaze was fixed onto the last enemy -the one who was the biggest of them all.
“Your circus will not work with me…” the Hayacrian spoke in his strange dialect, and Arjuna was already airborne with the kattari blade speeding towards his face.