Derrick couldn't believe it, the chill from the ice spear slowly spread to the rest of his body.
He could feel the waves of pain all striking him simultaneously, but he couldn't do anything about it.
He couldn't move, couldn't scream, nothing, he was still processing the attack.
His blade clattered to the ground, his fingers too weak to hold it.
As his blade fell, so did the hope and confidence the king had in him.
"DERRICK!!!" The king screamed, his voice thundering above every other sound.
Everything in him wanted to lunge forward and physically stop this fight, but he knew it was wrong.
"Calm down, my king." Sir Thompson spoke, a look of shock was plastered on his face. He couldn't believe what happened.
"Don't tell me to calm down, aren't you seeing what is happening?" The king screamed. He felt like ripping Sir Thompson in two.
"Don't worry father, I'm getting rid of the weakling." Ivan stretched his hand, and a scythe made of thick ice materialized.
