Baldur's eyes were wide open as he fell from the skies.
In his chest was an enormous hole at least three inches wide. It went all the way from one end of his body to the other.
Blood spewed endless from his slightly parted lips as gravity pulled him back to the ground.
'How could...'
Indeed.
His indomitable body had been pierced right through. His attack had faltered.
His ideals and convictions had failed.
'How?'
That was indeed the question to ask.
How could his ideology fail?! It was impossible! It absolutely couldn't be.
And yet it was.
Standing in the sky above, wings flapping behind him, Cain placed a hand to his bloodied chest.
Blood streaked down the mangled wound he had suffered, but he was still standing.
And that was all that mattered.
Unlike Baldur, he had not taken the blow directly, instead using a portion of his energy to defend against it.
