The black tide that blotted out the sky surrounded the city walls,
The soldiers manning the walls battered from battle.

Melodious chords of music were suddenly heard —
A single swordmaster had overcome the waves of enemies.

The song flowed from betwixt the blades,
Breaking through formations as a dorsal fin cleaving the waves.

When the last wicked beast finally fell,
Shattered into pieces amidst the sword's dance,
The frost blade bore no trace of blood.