The strike connected, driving deep enough to crack ribs beneath. Ezekiel grunted in pain but maintained his offensive pressure.
Their battle had reached stalemate, both wounded, but determined, neither gaining decisive advantage despite escalating injuries.
...
The behemoth's situation deteriorated by the second. Ethan coordinated the assault, directing each general toward specific vulnerabilities he'd identified.
"Zhao, target the joint three inches left of your last strike," he instructed while carving deeper into damaged tissue. "Wei, switch to the right foreleg—same technique."
They all followed his guidance, each strike building upon previous damage. The behemoth's natural regeneration couldn't keep pace with accumulated trauma across multiple locations.
Two more limbs failed in succession, leaving the massive creature struggling to support its bulk with only four functional appendages.
'Almost there,'
Ethan thought, dodging a desperate swipe from the behemoth.
