Sigvar's eyes widened. "No… this is impossible!" he roared.
Before his voice could fade, the blood dome began to twist. The liquid spun faster and faster, rising upward and taking shape until it formed a single, enormous sword.
A sword made entirely of blood.
It kept growing, its edge glowing faintly red as its tip pierced through the clouds. Higher and higher it rose, until it towered ten times larger than Sigvar's bear spirit. The storm clouds parted around it, and even the lightning seemed too afraid to strike near its glow.
Across the battlefield, everything stopped. Duke Hadric, the soldiers, even the Vikings, all stood frozen, their eyes fixed on the sky. The sight of the giant blood sword silenced the world.
Then, the sword began to fall.
The air screamed as it tore through the clouds, falling with unstoppable force.
