He couldn't take it anymore.
Dain swung his broadsword for the sixth time. The blade crashed down on the creature's skull plate, sparks flying, bone cracking — and the thing rolled sideways and came back up like nothing happened. The three dim crystals on its spine were right there. Right fucking there. Exposed. Pulsing. Practically begging to be shattered.
And Dain went for the skull again.
Lyra was doing the same thing. Crossing slashes to the head, the jaw, the legs. Anywhere except the spine. The creature at the cart had its back turned to her for a full second while it rammed the frame, crystals wide open, and she slashed its hindquarter instead.
The remaining guards were somehow even worse. Two of them were supposedly flanking Dain's target, but they were just wildly hacking at its thickest shoulder plates, bouncing their steel off the bone armor like panicked lumberjacks.
