CH-CH-CHTING!! C-C-C-CRACK!!
A pillar of ice raced upward, giving Ocker a raised platform so his surrounded troops could clearly see their general. Oker yelled, "STAND UP! DON'T COWER–!"
Crack. Chting! Frrrip!
In the middle of Ocker's rallying cry, worry flashed across his face. But it was too late.
A sword had effortlessly and quietly pierced through the ice pillar. The blade was already too close to evade, about to run through Ocker's heart.
Ocker managed to twirl his halberd to redirect the attack. But the sword still skewered Ocker's side, only a hand's length away from the general's heart. What Ocker had failed to realize, until after the sword had already pierced Ocker, was the change in the sword's attack.
There was no swirling, saw-like frost on the blade. Instead, there was a razor-thin edge created from glacial frost, which had cleanly and silently stabbed through Ocker's pillar of ice.
