Shifts space

This is the day. The final day. Days, like brothers, come in different types, with different qualities. They do not all have to work together and run in series, seriatim. A day can be alone, and singular.
This is your day. You have decreed its dimensions and its duration. It is a single day of days, endless and eternal, and nothing can outlast it.
No matter how hard it tries.
Here he comes, Encarmine gleaming. He still thinks he's going to win.
You dodge the blade. You swing Worldbreaker. He evades, but you hadn't intended for the maul to hit him anyway. The swing was just to scare him into the air. He takes flight, white wings wide, a flash of gold to encircle you and strike you down from above. He trusts in his one advantage: the ability to fly, and turn a two-dimensional fight into a three-dimensional assault.
But what are his three dimensions compared to the multitude you command?
He soars above you, a vertical ascent. You reach along the eighth angle of space and grab. Your Talon closes around his trailing ankle. His climb arrests with a brutal jolt. For a second, he is anchored in the air.
You bring him down hard, swinging him by the leg, like a hammer, into the deck. You let time slow so you can relish every detail of this moment.
Watch–
His wings brushed up around his arms as the air pushes them forward. The slow swirl of his hair around his face. The tiny, jagging cracks on his golden shin-guard as it splinters between the scissoring Talon. The feathers torn loose by shearing wing-load, floating end-over-end in the air as he leaves them behind. The 'o' of his mouth. The clutching left hand. The shock in his eyes as they slowly stretch wide. The dilation of his pupils.
The impact.

The End and the Death Vol. Ii