As the intense sound of leather scraping against the ground graced his ears, Myles swung his Great Hammer down, a streak of pale-yellow sparkles left in its wake.
SLAM!
The Altmuehlopterus that had been flying in his direction was turned into a red stain on the ground, remnants of its existence pulverized in an instant, becoming imprints on the rock beneath the hammer's head.
Any later, and Myles would have had a hole in his neck from its beak.
Such a wound was not fatal for someone with refined organs, but getting injured in any capacity was a death sentence right now. Especially since he was the last line of defence between the beast tide and his young brothers and sisters.
And he knew that somewhere in the mess in the distance, his parents, grandparents, and great grandparents were likely having similar thoughts.
