Moreover, the arena was already littered with corpses lying every which way.
The corpses were densely studded with throwing spears.
Like crude chevaux-de-frise.
They restricted Ice Storm's advantage in agile movement and her elusive tactics.
Ice Storm tried several times to shake off Brute Hammer and force her way through the Ratfolk Servant Soldiers' spear formation.
But though Brute Hammer moved slowly, his flexible, powerful elephant trunk, along with the bone tumors rich in metal, was not slow in the slightest.
When it swung like a Meteor Hammer, its shriek, enough to make ghosts weep and wolves howl, seemed to come straight from behind Ice Storm's ears.
Ice Storm darted left and right, trying to tear apart the Ratfolk Servant Soldiers' dense formation.
Yet Brute Hammer harassed her from behind each time, his bone tumors nearly smashing into her waist and cervical spine.
Unlike the hundreds of bloody wounds she had left on him, which looked gruesome but had not damaged his bones or tendons.
With her delicate, petite frame, if Brute Hammer hit her, she likely would not get another chance to walk off the arena.
In the end, Ice Storm could only sweep up frost-condensed Wind Blades with her claws, leaving wounds deep enough to expose bone on several Ratfolk Servant Soldiers at the very edge of the formation.
Then she had no choice but to withdraw resentfully.
After this repeated several times, the Ratfolk formation still fought to the death without retreating.
Yet Brute Hammer's Wolf Fang Club had scraped open a bloody, mangled wound across Ice Storm's face.
Though the injury was not serious.
She looked quite bedraggled.
Her stamina was also draining rapidly. Her face was full of irritation and fury, and she no longer possessed the composure with which she had initially moved like