Ludwig did not pause to admire the damage. His body was still in motion, still charged with momentum. With the same breath that carried his strike, he twisted midair, his free hand flicking toward his ring. A shimmer of mana sparked across his fingers as the stored weapon within his ring manifested into being. Durandal, no longer in its standard form, unfolded into the sleek curve of a single-handed scythe. The weapon gleamed in the half-light, its edge alive with violet flickers.
Still in the air, Ludwig shifted his grip and rotated his core, swinging the scythe across the Queen's already-damaged neckline. At the moment of impact, he cast again.
"Explosive mine," he roared, and just behind the sweeping blade, another charge burst into being.
