Sparda sauntered out into the murky field; his light eyes glittered with threat. He had passed by several lower demons and they reached to him, wanting to stroke the Knight. Encased in black armour, his wings unfolded, spinal muscles moved with lethal elegance. Many tried not to coerce Sparda into any fights, and many were just as dumb anyway, they really didn't care, for pain was the least of their problems.
Blades shot out from under him, their fetid breaths and fangs, as resilient as their eyes.
Their muscular limbs pushed back, their claws dug into the ground, and they sprung at the Knight.