Sigurd’s shield slammed into what could only be described as a magical aura, though users of ward spells were not uncommon enough for the Northman to be completely taken aback. However, though he had failed to do the blunt damage he wished for in a certain sense his ultimate goal had been achieved. Sigurd was only trying to earn himself time to utilize his blade, the weapon by which he could finish the fight. He had done that, as Gigue’s hyperarmour froze him momentarily a second passed and Sigurd’s shield was dragged away, even as his hand released on the hilt of his blade and span beneath, seizing it in an ice-pick grip. Gigue was right in thinking he was relatively safe from the blade at close range, however there was something Sigurd could do to take advantage of his current height advantage over his stationary foe.

Simultaneous to Gigue’s shield slipping and his action of grabbing at Sigurd’s belt the Northman would be ready, first lifting the hilt of his blade high and over his grappling foe, before plunging the point down with all his might. It was an all or nothing strike in a sense, as his enemy’s great strength would take hold in a matter of moments. Gigue’s lifting motion would disable Sigurd’s defences, but it was like for like, even as Sigurd was thrown forward he’d complete his downward thrust, aiming the point through Gigue’s left shoulder near the neck, with enough force to punch through armour and flesh to the vital organs beneath. 

The fate of his thrust would dictate Sigurd’s future, though at the very least he had the foresight to turn his point so he wouldn’t fall on the edge of his own blade.