"Vashti . . ." screams Pelmon, "you monster!"
The necromorph unleashed a cacophonous roar as Pelmon advanced towards it. He leaped into one of the ruins and brandished his blade towards the flesh of the monster. But Pelmon's relapse did not leave even a dent. The attack served futile, like that of a dull sword hitting a sturdy object. Pelmon's blade was a toothpick trying to cut a big chunk of meat.
The necromorph's skin was several times tougher than the ones they had fought before. The book had told them that the necromorphs were supposed to have vital points, and were possible to kill with the proper slashes. But now everything about that book seemed completely different to the monsters they were facing.
And Hosea, Pelmon, and Yael all had the idea why.
"Hehe. Arletha flew." Vashti mumbled, her lips red with her own blood.
