Ethan fought on, but a sliver of cold dread was creeping into his heart. These Thunder Whales weren't mindless energy constructs; they fought with a terrifying, growing intelligence. The more he battled them, the more they adapted to his movements and habits.
Worse, they were learning to coordinate. Their defenses became a layered, unbroken wall. Their attacks crashed against him in relentless, overlapping waves, one strike setting up the next. It was absurd. When all nine had been present, he'd handled them with relative ease. Now, with only seven left, he found himself hard-pressed to land a clean hit.
BOOM!
As he twisted in mid-air, narrowly avoiding a crushing tail-sweep from one whale, another slammed into him head-on. The impact sent him flying backward like a ragdoll. And on his trajectory, two more massive tails swung toward him, poised to smash him between them.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" he snarled.
