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That towering figure was already right in front of him, its stumbling steps leaving a messy trail of blood across the fallen leaves.
He gripped his staff with both hands, braced his waist, and swung it up like a sledgehammer.
With a slight movement of his thoughts, the invisible force of Mage Hand silently attached itself to the staff, giving it a second burst of acceleration as it came crashing down!
After a string of intense battles, blood loss, and flight, Gork had already used up most of his strength.
His steps grew heavier by the moment, his breathing as rough as a broken bellows.
Feeling a vicious gust behind him, he knew he couldn't run any farther. He could only force himself to turn around and use the last of his strength to grip his polearm and hold it across his body.
The instant he turned, a flicker of surprise crossed his scarlet eyes, followed by a gleam of delight.
Was this the fellow who had been hiding in the distance and casting spells all along?
And the weapon in his hands... looked like a polearm?
As a master of polearms, Gork could tell at a glance how clumsy the human's movements were.
That stance looked downright laughable to him.
The confidence that had wavered from his grievous injuries gathered again.
He felt that same sense of superiority he'd had while toying with the warrior named Greck.
Just like before, there was no need to block head-on!
He'd simply sweep upward!
And open the other fellow up in the same motion!
Clang!
The blade slammed into the strange staff head!
The weapon didn't bounce aside as easily as he'd expected!
A terrifying force utterly beyond his comprehension surged along