The sensation of his longsword piercing leather and flesh, then scraping against bone, filled Black-and-White Bear with visceral revulsion.
Judging by his armor and ornaments, the Minisian pinned to the ground by the two-handed greatsword seemed to be an officer.
His chainmail was more finely woven than an ordinary soldier's, and his breastplate was thicker, too.
When Black-and-White Bear tried to pull the sword free, the battered greatsword, which had endured far too many blows and cuts, finally gave out.
Crack...
A sharp, piercing snap rang out.
The weight in Black-and-White Bear's hands suddenly lessened. He looked down and found himself holding only half a broken sword.
The heavy hilt and the upper portion with its crossguard remained in his hands, while the blood-caked, warped blade and its lethal point stayed lodged in the officer's chest.
The officer's pupils dilated from agony and blood loss as his body convulsed violently.
His lungs had been pierced. Every futile breath came with a leaking "Hhh... hhh..." as pink blood froth full of tiny bubbles poured from his gaping mouth and the wound, staining his beard and the mud beneath him red.
What a stubborn bastard!
Even in this state, his bloodshot eyes remained fixed on Black-and-White Bear. His right hand, not quite trapped beneath his body, still groped through the muddy water, trying to reach a broken sword lying nearby, as though he wanted to land one final blow.
His lips opened and closed soundlessly, spilling more pink froth with every movement.
Those pink bubbles possessed a strange, morbid beauty.
But Black-and-White Bear knew they were nothing good. They were proof of a human being's final struggle after his lungs had been torn open and filled with blood.
Every pink bubble that burst marked another bit of life slipping away. Black-and-White Bear