"Roar?"
The Terror of the Deep was bewildered. It tried to retract its unresponsive appendage, but the tentacle merely twitched feebly.
High above, Veylin surveyed the results.
A Dragonhawk knight reported over the Mind Channel.
[Lord Veylin, its resistance is weaker than expected. Shall we continue attacking according to the original plan?]
[Continue.]
[Understood!]
The circling Dragonhawk Knights' Order became a merciless whirlwind of death.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The twenty knights worked in perfect coordination, taking turns diving, shooting, and pulling up.
Following their earlier experience, they sent specially made, poison-coated harpoons raining down one after another, driving them straight into the massive beast's body!
Squelch!
Squelch!
The harpoon heads tore through its skin and sank into its flesh.
The Terror of the Deep's frantic struggles visibly slowed. Its flailing tentacles grew slower and slower, their movements no longer furious attacks but more like helpless spasms. Its enormous body gradually went numb.
Standing on a reef below, Unas felt his heart sink inch by inch, turning ice-cold.
The successive battles over this period had nearly exhausted the stored magical beast flesh, drastically reducing its ability to resist the poison!
Across the shallow-water battlefield, more and more people stopped fighting and looked up at this bizarre "hunt."
Ola climbed out of the muddy water and helped the wounded Sir Finley to his feet. The two stared at the sky, speechless for a long time.
They had only just severed three tentacles at the cost of injuries to their comrades, yet the force overhead looked as though it were putting on an air raid drill.
Sir Finley watched the Dragonhawk knights' coordination and their perfectly measured attacks. The shock to his understanding was so profound that he almost forgot the pain of his wounds.
In past wars, flying cavalry had mainly been