บท 167: This isn't even my final form!

Dave slammed his great-shield into the earth at an angle then crouched beneath it and activated [Block]. The sky darkened and the storm of black feathers came whistling down, each of them hit with a bang.

All around him the razor sharp, metallic projectiles struck with the force of machine-gun rounds and sliced through undead flesh and bone with ease.

Not even the dunlords were spared. They used their outsized claws as shields but still took severe damage despite the heavy chitinous armor.

Fortunately, the Unholy priestess and paladins, the regiment's healers, were far back from the battle zone.

Finally, the deadly black rain ended. Dave popped out from under his shield to survey the damage and assess the butcher's bill.

"Lone!" he shouted. He searched the unmoving figures lying on the ground, trying to find the archer. She had the lowest level in the group and certainly didn't have the HP to survive that kind of feather-storm.