Dyer, who had set down his musket, immediately ducked back behind cover as dozens of twisted spikes shot over his head.
Counting the remaining six bullets with heartache, Dyer clenched his teeth as he reloaded his musket, simultaneously yelling at the top of his lungs:
"Hold on for three more minutes!"
Boom!
Dodging the deadly vines that swung his way, Thorne's robust body sprang nimbly into action.
As he sliced through the Twisted Treant's chest, he stomped on its trembling, falling arm and flung off the heavy "Ghost Claw."
The slashing blade, at an angle, conveniently decapitated the encroaching Twisted Treant; amidst intricate maneuvers, Thorne also evaded several more vines.
Every one of Thorne's dodges and attacks was as perilous as dancing on the knife-edge of the Grim Reaper.
But it seemed Thorne had gotten used to this kind of fight.
He coolly evaded attacks from various plants, carefully stepping around even the ground's fracturing vines.
