Flying Menace (3)

As Erik stood below, the Galewing circled in the sky, its watchful eyes focused on him, getting ready to strike once more.

With a single powerful flap of its wings, it conjured a storm of wind blades, each one a razor-sharp crescent of compressed air, hurtling toward him with deadly accuracy.

Erik's senses were heightened, every sound and movement making him tense. The tension in his body heightened as he analyzed the trajectory of each attack.

With an impressive burst of speed, he maneuvered to the left, escaping the first blade that had sliced through the air right at the spot where he had been standing only a moment earlier.

But the Galewing showed no signs of relenting. Once again, a series of wind blades was unleashed, but this time, they originated from a different direction.

"Motherfucker," the word was a calm acknowledgment rather than an outcry of frustration.