The loud whispers from the on-watchers made Octavius start to shiver like a terrified little girl, as he looked around with an extremely pitiful face.
"Imp-p-ossible! Why are you not dying?!" He manically yelled.
His voice was high-pitched, cracking with desperation and disbelief, and his eyes were wild, darting from the broken sword in his hand to the bloodied but very much alive Amazon standing before him.
He could not understand what was happening, could not comprehend how his attacks, which should have been lethal, were barely cutting her.
The second sword he had chosen had been enchanted, designed to cut through flesh and bone like butter.
And yet, it had shattered against her neck like glass against stone. The image of that moment was burned into his mind, a recurring nightmare that played over and over again in his terror-stricken thoughts.
