The ring bounced off the floor. Once. Twice. On the third hop, Crowley leaped off the floor. Drawing his sword, he brought it down straight on Ferid’s neck without a pause.
“Oops, you’re fast.” The relaxed nonchalant expression vanished from Ferid’s face. He took a step back. Crowley could follow his movements with his eyes now.
Retreating a step, Ferid kicked off the floor, jumping towards the ceiling. Landing there, he watched Crowley from his position on the ceiling.
Crowley thrust his sword up and at his face. Ferid’s hand caught the sword. He was about to break it. But Crowley wasn’t going to let him. Sliding the blade down, he tried to cut off Ferid’s fingers.