But not being sent flying by Perturabo's heavy kick was already no small feat. The Apothecary forced himself to hold on, enduring the searing agony in his body.
He pulled the chainsword from the ground and swung upward with all his strength. His entire body arched like a crescent moon as he poured every ounce of power into this strike.
Taste the sharpness of the Great Shark's Teeth!
The Apothecary roared inwardly. He could see the pale Great Shark's Teeth spinning along the chainsword. These fangs, taken from the jaws of massive beasts stored in Nicol's flagship freezer, possessed exaggerated hardness and sharpness. One of the surgical blades on his body had been ground from one such enormous tooth.
More than a century of honing had not betrayed his efforts. This surgical blade had helped him deal with plenty of tough, resilient muscles and iron-hard skin.
Surely the massive teeth on this chainsword would make this unidentified Terminator pay a terrible price...
Sparks scattered with a crackle as the great teeth shaved away layer after layer of fine metal filings. A faint scratch was cut into Perturabo's greave—not even damage, really. At most, it was a scrape.
"You managed to strike me. Hah! Kid, you should be proud." Perturabo gave a derisive snort, then sent the Apothecary crashing flat against the wall with another practiced roundhouse kick.
Using only his legs, Perturabo suppressed the Carcharodons' attacks time and again. His hands clasped behind his back, his stance brimming with mockery and displaying the immense arrogance buried deep within him.
Before long, the Carcharodons' bodies could no longer sustain the fight. Though the warriors still wished to slay the enemy, their shattered armor and flesh-covered bones broken to pieces could no longer support another charge.
The Chaplain could only watch helplessly