There was no thought, no choice, no rational decision. He didn't choose to step in and raise his right arm to deflect the attack. He didn't decide to roll his hand around and push, adding to the force of the cut and guiding it in towards the enemy's body. When the tip of the sickle slammed into its wielder's thigh and drew the scream from her throat, he didn't think about whether he should grab the handle and yank upwards, tearing through her femoral artery and reducing her quadricep to hacked meat. When she collapsed on the ground at his feet, he didn't opt to crush her throat with a heelstamp. It all just happened, power and speed and endless hours of training moving him in exactly the way he needed to move to destroy his opponent.