For a single second, everything went completely silent.
The wind stopped.
The screams died in their throats.
Even the remaining gods seemed frozen in place as an overwhelming sense of danger crashed down upon them, far heavier than any killing intent before.
Aestrea disappeared.
One moment, he was above them, and in the next, he was standing directly in front of the massive crowd.
Splurt!
A thin, silver line flashed across the battlefield, stretching from one side to the other.
At first, nothing happened.
The gods remained standing, eyes wide, weapons still raised, their expressions frozen in confusion and disbelief.
A few of them instinctively tried to move, to shout, to activate their authorities again.
Crack… crack…
A soft, unsettling sound echoed through the air.
From their right shoulders, a clean diagonal line formed, cutting straight down across their bodies toward the left side of their waists.
And slowly... their upper halves began to slide.
