The longer the fight was prolonged, the more annoyed Tycondrius grew.
The Guardian tried to... kick him.
Its execution was embarrassingly sloppy, only threatening because of the construct's size and relative strength. To blunt the force of the attack, Tycon smashed his adamantine scabbard into its shin, the force easily capable of breaking half the bones in a Gold-Rank creature's body.
His stamina reserves were being taxed heavily... but he had the advantage of the soothing winds of Zenon's comfortable support skills and whatever healing skills that Aria's healers were casting on him. He was free of muscle fatigue... his focus remained... and his skill activations were smooth and without the possibility of recoil.
However... his head was beginning to ache... He felt a minute, dull, throbbing sensation just behind his brows. If it wasn't a mana or stamina issue... then he was merely suffering from general frustration.
