"What is wrong with that thing?!" After ten exhausting minutes of sustained output, Fang's voice cracked. He was panting, his forehead slick with sweat. "It should have been obliterated already! Why is it reforming the moment I peel a layer back?"
"I told you already," William replied calmly. He was unleashing his own bursts of light-aligned powered techniques to complement Fang's lightning, the two elements weaving together to create a purifying combined attack. "Stop hitting the thick walls. Aim for the eye of the storm!"
Fang had been trying to cut the tornado down by attacking its bulk and the source of its power, but he was fundamentally misunderstanding the geometry of a Medium World's defence.
He was attacking the armour. He needed to pour his energy into the harmless-looking hollow at the centre—the fake calmness that represented the only structural weakness in the vortex.
