Reinhardt watched the tip of the massive zweihander sweep past at a leisurely pace, in an overall rather languid movement. He knew, intellectually, that the blade was moving quite fast. Faster than he could ever get it moving, in any case. Despite the speed that the sword was moving, he could clearly see the reflected candlelight run up the length of the blade, cowp over the point and run back down to the ricasso and play off the quillons. It was quite beautiful, he decided. The blade was high quality, expertly made in a style that seemed archaic and ancient, but none the less deadly.
He had learnt of this - in fact there were entire classes dedicated to it - moments of stress causing a dilation of time, in addition to a myriad of other effects - and how to deal with them. Theoretically, of course. Having no way to actually experience it without being in mortal danger, the instructors had wisely chosen not to subject children to near-death experiences in order to trigger such a fear response. Given that such responses always fell into one of the “Three Effs” - Fight, Flight or Freeze - and one has no way of knowing exactly how they will respond until they are faced with such a scenario, even the most controlled situation can quickly become fatal if a child was to seize up at the wrong moment. They ran drills, had duels and sparring sessions, and tried to instil instinctive reactions through endless training, but nothing compared to an uncontrolled life-or-death situation.
"We shouldn't be here," Reinhardt thought, keenly aware of his two closest friends having their own troubles, locked in combat with similarly armed and armoured enemies. He could hear Magdi mid-yell, probably an expletive laden discourse on the parentage of their foes, his hammer-and-block splitter combo twirling about him. Reinhardt could hear the strange but somewhat familiar “ZAP-zap” sound off to his left, signalling the casting and contact of a Twin Cast Static Charge cast by Otto, somewhere behind him. He grimaced internally - it wouldn't be enough, not against these adversaries.
"We shouldn't be here!" Reinhardt thought again, trying to instigate some movement in his body. Running, at this point, would be ideal. He knew that the sword had only stopped because it was going to come slashing back at the same speed that it had flashed past. But, despite his mind working at full speed, his body was responding in slow motion. Yet he was also aware that his thought, as well as his perception of his dance partner and the room at large, had happened in the blink of an eye. In fact, he hadn't actually blinked yet. He couldn't, fixated as he was on the gleam of reflected light running along the blade that had whipped by in front of him.
He did blink then, the somewhat idle thought about having not blinked reflexively causing him to blink. That was a bad idea, and he just as idly resented his body for betraying him with that response, as the zweihander had already started back along its arc when he re-opened his eyes. He had, of course, no where else to go. His initial 'dodge' - a jerky, reflexive twitch that had taken him a handspan beyond the reach of the two-handed sword - had left him unbalanced and over-extended. As such, his only real recourse was to throw his woefully under-armoured arm up in a pugilist style block, and hope that tearing through the muscle and shearing through the bone at least slowed the blade down enough that it didn't also take his head.
"I've got plenty of time," Reinhardt thought to himself, watching the massive sword sedately float through the air toward him, while the more intellectual portion of his brain screamed at him to do something. His arm simply refused to move at its usual speed. He was aware that his arm was actually moving as fast as it could - faster than it ever had - but his adversary was simply too fast, the difference in strength too great, and he was simply too inexperienced.
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"I do NOT have enough time," he thought as he refocused on the edge of the sword approaching, fully aware his arm would not make it in time to intercept its trajectory, and doubting it would even matter if it did.
The flashing blade caught Reinhardt at the nape. Whilst not possessing the thickest neck, Reinhardt was still fairly powerfully built. However, the robustness of his scrag was no match for the power of the strike, the weight of the blade, and the built up momentum of the swing. There was no pain - everything happened far too quickly for anything to register - but Reinhardt was suddenly aware he could no longer feel his anything.
He had heard that the mind can remain aware for minutes after the head was separated from the body. Some executioners maintained that the head can continue to perceive and react to stimulus for nearly six minutes in some cases. A few enterprising Alchemists and Necromancers would put forth that the head can survive indefinitely after being separated from a body. Reinhardt knew almost immediately that his was not any of those cases. Already, his vision was dimming at the edges, a kind of tunnel vision forming. There was a strange rushing in his ears.
Magdi was screaming, a backhanded swipe of the block splitter catching his killer, too late, in the side of the armet-style helm, knocking the helmet clanging to the floor. Reinhardt appreciated the avenging blow. He concluded that the rushing sound was probably caused by the fact his head was now sailing sideways at the same rate that it was falling. His vision had shrunk now to the size of a Korone, jolting to the side as his head impacted the ground and rolled to come to a rest alongside his former opponent's empty helmet. The vacant eye slot stared at him just as intently as he stared into the darkness within the metal.
As his vision tightened yet further, the face of the armet filling his view entirely, his brain raced through all possible - albeit limited - resources he had in order to stave off his impending death. It must have found something it liked, as it settled on his Innate. His damnable Innate, equal parts hopeful, useful and useless. His damnable Innate, fully two-thirds of the reason they were here in this situation. It pulsed in his mind, flashing across his now totally dark vision, flashing as if it was an actionable skill, which of course, it wasn't. He focused on it, and it pulsed again. In the dim recesses of his mind, he heard a sound similar to a bear trap snapping shut, and the world became all but silent.
The increasingly sluggish part of his brain continued to search for something to help him, starting with everything he had ever learned in the Schulef?higkeit, to the reveal of his Innate, and the choices that led to his current circumstances...
