While Popp's playing keepaway in the shallows, Avan stands before the snail and concentrates. He's already determined that no normal sword strike will crack the shell, and obviously magic is off the table, which leaves him with just one path forward. He's going to have to use Earth Slash.

Easier said than done, but if he's going to figure it out, now's the time. He just has to put everything he has left into one final blow. Just concentrate all of his remaining power into his blade and let his body figure out the right movement on its own.

He takes a deep breath, hoists his sword, and turns his attention inward. Aura, Popp had called it when explaining the technique. Not just raw strength, but something more. Determination, the will to fight, the force behind every heartbeat, every desperate gasp of air. He's struggled to fully grasp the concept when training on his own, fumbling at the edges of understanding, but here, now, in the heat of battle, with the certainty that failure will have dire consequences for him and his friend, it comes to him easily.

His sword begins to glow as this newfound power fills it. Slowly but surely, until he has nothing else left to pour into it. And then he leaps into the air, blade raised overhead, and brings it down in a single, powerful swing.

The snail's shell shatters. The wailing stops. Even the sand beneath sprays high into the air from the force of the impact. And for a moment, Avan stands triumphant.

And then he collapses, too exhausted for his legs to hold him up any longer.