The Night Sky Sword was a weapon condensed from the resentment of the Underworld's dead. It was filled with complex emotions—unwillingness, shame, regret, jealousy, and more—all of which had ultimately turned into helpless rage, making it incomparably sharp.
Somewhat like Magik's Soulsword, this weapon was more like the manifestation of a concept.
Black Light flashed, and the massive iceberg split in two within the black mist, as smoothly as a hot knife through butter. Just as the blurred blade was about to fall upon Sin's head—
Clang!
A crisp but quiet sound rang out as the sharp blade was blocked.
It was a battleaxe that could even be described as utterly ordinary. Its filthy, worn wooden haft and the cloth wrapped around it were stained with blood, nearly rotted away.
The hand gripping the axe haft was shriveled and aged as well, its skin pale and dry like birch bark in winter.
Yet as it blocked Hela's strike, the Runes along the side of the battleaxe lit up one after another with Golden Light. The dazzling radiance drove away the surrounding darkness, followed by a violent explosion.
Hela had only just assumed a defensive stance when the Golden Light blasted her away. Her figure in a dark green dress crashed through the black stone formations behind her, kicking up clouds of dust and ice shards, only for them to be immediately dispersed by the Golden Light.
Hela did not fall. A streak of black blood ran from the corner of her mouth. She raised the back of her hand to wipe it away, then held it before her eyes in disbelief, as though she had forgotten how many years it had been since she last bled.
But what shocked her even more was not that, but the familiar power contained