The broadsword fell with the shriek of a falling artillery shell.
Inquisitor Commander Zong plummeted from the marble dais. Then, Grand Elder Feng Xuan pointed a finger downward, weaving an extra layer of domain logic into the judge’s flight path.
The gray sky groaned.
Around the falling headsman’s blade, the local gravity gaining speed constant multiplied ten-fold.
Instead of falling at normal speed, Zong’s five-hundred-pound slab of serrated iron sped up at nearly one hundred meters per second squared, carving an empty pocket trench through the air as it dropped.
V = 98 m/s².
The sheer sky shifted weight crushed the flat stone slabs beneath him before the blade even arrived. At that speed, the striking force contained within the dropping blade exceeded three million blasts of heat. Enough downward crushing force to shear through Meng Shan’s iron tower shield and compact his spine into powdered spine bones.
“Shan! Shield!” Lin Ke barked, his voice raw as steam hissed from his blistered boots.
