He could have saved his own hide and still done well without the heed extended by the lady Boss. Teeth grating together, the swordsman holds his tongue purely for the sake of checking the inbound explosive -- foul play betraying the weakness and insecurity felt by the enemy in the presence of notorious hitmen.
He engages the muscle bands within his upper left arm. In a mere split second, electric impulses jet through his prosthesis, ejecting the limb by its wrist. A quick, precise snap of the blade across his shoulder is all it takes for him to parry the explosive back into enemy lines. It would have been much safer for the two of them had the Sword Emperor simply sheared the fuse off -- yet with the opponents pushing their numbers, returning the enemy's own medicine proves far more efficient.
The grenade detonates, taking with it a few pathetic souls along alongside limbs wasting on the likes of fucking weaklings.
"Voooooooiiii! Mind your own side of the fight, brat!" Although he's had more than plenty of the snooty little lady's attitude thus far, she seems - in average impressiveness - completely capable of holding her own in a blood feud. "-- Che! Don't be mistaken. I'm not about to fight in your pathetic lackeys' place just because they're too weak to take leave their own fucking Boss out of the battle!"