Another explosion erupted of darkness and fire, right where the first one that separated Ludwig and the Wrathful Death. The energy of it was all Ludwig needed for his weapon to dig even deeper into the chest of the incarnation of Wrath. Raw pure power surged out and the final number of damage ticked up signaling the Wrathful Death's health pool has been fully consumed.
The Wrathful Death's body lurched as though about to collapse. It staggered on ruined knees, its mace drooping low, and for a fragile instant Ludwig allowed himself the thought that it will finally fall and end these years of suffering and endless battle.
But instead, the titan raised one colossal hand to its own chest. With a screeching grind, black claws tore into armor and steel flesh alike, ripping itself open. The sound was obscene, metal rending against metal, like the mountains themselves crying out in agony.
