Between the sound of his heart jackhammering his eardrums and the howling rage whirling in his brain, Gaul can barely hear the racket that this mountain of dead flesh is emitting. It is, however, enough to slow his movement by a fraction, which just serves to piss him off more.

He jumps backwards, placing about twenty feet of distance between them, and slashes downward with all of the force he can muster. A razor-sharp sheet of ice instantaneously erupts in front of him, fifteen feet tall and forty feet long, dividing the titan in half vertically. Gaul swings again, and does the same in a 180 degree horizontal arc that shatters the first sheet into shrapnel-like shards of ice that explode in a wide cone for about one hundred and fifty feet, shredding every inch of the monstrosity and sending chunks of flesh and viscera flying all over the mountain. When the red mist clears, it’s clear that both man and monster have been reduced to nothing but a massive crimson stain on the face of the planet.