The sky was frigid, and snow and wind intertwined.
The unsheathed sword blade suddenly resonated, with a faint howling sound in the air.
In that abrupt moment, before countless residual images of the pests, countless flecks of flying snow seemed to leap out of thin air, swiftly spreading into a desolate white, covering the skies.
It felt like being alone, trekking amidst the endless snow and wind, not knowing for how long.
At the instant of realization, the sensation felt was not pain, but numb and dull, as if a thick layer of paper lay between the soul and the shell, response delayed.
Pain, panic, unease, those insignificant things dispersed, leaving nothing, feeling nothing, just instinctual shivers.
Cold, so cold.
Thus, at that hairline moment, all the residual images abruptly froze in place, controlled rigidly, sustaining for a negligible instant.
