“Heh, only one.”
Stupid words from the stupidest of them. It was to be expected, but as the Soul Eater pulls it’s gleaming blade, a blade forged by the very fires conjured by Emma-ō’s spit, they knew by coming to work tonight, they orphaned their children. When as children themselves and forced into being soldiers, they widowed their wives.
“Sore o subete fakku,” their leader cries and thankfully charges first, leaving the other two not waiting to be last. But it doesn’t matter.
The Soul Eater is still hungry after such a meager meal.