Kenway was fighting against the wave of moundfang termites surrounding him with desperate vigor, his dented shield and short sword swinging in arcs and deadly thrusts.
His arms ached from the weight of his shield as he bashed termite after termite, holding fast against the onslaught.
His shield of virtue had kept the fiercest bites and blows at bay, but he had used too many, and his plate armor was almost destroyed since he wasn't always able to make shields of virtues one in time.
A stab from a sharp mandible pierced a gap in his armor, clawing a deep gash in Kenway's chest that sent bolts of pain shooting through him.
While gritting his teeth, Kenway ignored the blood now staining the clothes underneath the armor and focused on defending himself for as long as possible.
"It looks like I'm going to die here."
