As Old Ironhead had said, inspired by the books Yilafren had stolen, the Shimmer Shield he created really did redirect the Drukhari's Dark Lance attacks elsewhere, like refracted light.
The poisoned crystal shards could penetrate the dual protection of the Shimmer Shield and Bubble Shield, but they proved weak against the Orks' heavy armor.
The clattering scrape and impact of fragments rang out, but the roar of Ork anti-air fire drowned out those fops, burying the enemies dancing through the sky beneath an even fiercer and denser barrage of lethal fire.
As long as you had enough of them, as long as you had enough gun barrels, no one could escape the web of fire you created. The predictive skills the Drukhari relied on were useless against the Orks' random trajectories. They could clearly see that the guns were not aimed at them, yet shrapnel shells still exploded right over their heads.
"Damn it! How can the Orks have Dark Deflection Shields on this scale? Who the hell gave them the resources for this?!"
The Drukhari counterattack achieved little, while they still had to endure the giant beast's indiscriminate artillery bombardment. Many warriors from the smaller cabals began retreating, fleeing to their camps and the hidden chambers whose locations they had long since scouted, planning to grab what they could and run.
Commorragh's loose, freewheeling traditions of more than ten thousand years were displayed in full at this moment. No one thought of protecting this massive nightclub. They only wanted to save their own lives.
The destruction and shock brought by the giant beast threw the city into inexplicable internal chaos. Those with grudges sought revenge, and those with old scores settled them. People seized others' weapons and equipment, hoping to survive one second longer beneath this terrifying monster.
But