Crackling with bleak electricity, Alkayne summoned the cold winds, kicking off the ground, charging forth with rapidity at an odd angle, swinging his halberd at Milo midsection, following with thrust, loosening grip, the zombie spun around, weapon reaching as far as it could all around him, a swirl of frigid winds shielding him as he did so.
Milo lowered himself, avoiding the edge, turbulent coldness encroaching upon him as he moved forward, positively brimming with his golden mana, without a care for the necrotic lightning that had gotten onto him through the winds, neither for the layers coating the armoured undead, he struck Alkayne straight in the chestplate, pushing him back with a loud bang.