It's black, oily beak stretched like a weapon made to stab and thrash. Its two wings clipped to its aerodynamic body. Those wings weren't feathers. They looked as black and strong as the hide of a Jaguar.
On its tiny head, a small dent lay, caused by my strengthened hit.
I stood up.
Nothing amazing or deadly about it. Is this really what got the soldiers so scared? Or was it the shock that the guns they had been trained all their lives to depend on had no effect whatsoever on the monsters?
Although I do admit,
I raised a leg, and the shadow of my feet loomed on top of the Ferin's head.
Dealing with these things in their many numbers would be absolutely horrific.
I bulged my calf, channeling all my strength toward it.
And I think that was what happened to the soldiers? They might've been targeted by hundreds at the same time, because,
I stepped on the Ferin's head. A sickening crunch echoed as the skull broke, and something warm and liquid splashed on my legs.
