King Gorgon's heavy spear attacks proved to be more of a problem than Fenrir anticipated.
Each strike came with precision and weight, just fast enough to interrupt Fenrir's offense and sharp enough to keep him on the defensive.
What made it even more troublesome was that Gorgon seemed to be doing it all without much thought—his body moved with instinct, as if battle was second nature to him.
Every time Fenrir tried to go on the offensive, the tip of Gorgon's spear would intercept his movement, forcing him to reposition or back away.
His usual tactic of overpowering his opponents wouldn't work here.
Around them, the guards who had previously fallen or retreated began regaining their strength.
Some of them pulled themselves up using their weapons, others leaned against the buildings for support. Their faces lit up with hope when they saw their king holding his own.
"Long live the king!"
"You can do it, Your Majesty!"
Their cheers echoed through the plaza.
