[12h: 38m: 00s]
"HRAAAH!" x 2
As their attacks became faster, so did the rate of fissures on the coral ceiling. By now, if it weren't for the fact that the entire world was flipped so that the coral ceiling would be down instead of up, large chunks of the ceiling would've fallen.
Nearlo let out a low grunt as he was pushed back. The Drowned King was somehow covering ground over him!
Gritting his teeth, he pushed back, increasing his rate of stabs.
CLANG! DING! CLANG!
The illusory harpoons clashed midair with extreme speeds, deflecting each other and crashing into the ground.
By now, Nearlo's body was growing weary and sore, fatigue quickly settling in, furthered by the amount of blood he lost. But so what? What if he was growing tired?
Could he, as the Captain, falter in front of his crewmate, who was still recovering from their horrid wounds?
He just needed to keep stabbing.
As long as he kept stabbing, he would overcome even the sense of fatigue!
