Ludwig held his sword with both hands, every tendon in his undead arms drawn taut as he swung Oathcarver downward. The weight of the blade, even for him, carried momentum enough to rattle his frame, and when the edge struck the flailing bulk of the Wrathful Death it was like slamming steel into a mountain of living iron. Sparks screamed out in every direction, not delicate but violent, thick bolts of raw light and clashing thunder leaping along the jagged edges of the titan's armor. The impact shuddered up Ludwig's arms, numbing bone and sinew, leaving his fingers tingling though he had no living nerves left to feel them.
Instead of frustration, Ludwig's grin only widened, fangs glinting in the half-light of their freefall. "Wouldn't have been fun if you were easily injured!" His voice came out ragged, carried away on the gale of wind that whipped past them both as they plunged.
