Fifty-six hearts, fifty-six massive hearts that the fragment of Kizmal possessed, that pumped blood of ferocious power and heat to all parts of his body, and their targets. But to kill the abominable giant, they did not need to destroy each and every heart.
Such a task was impossible, Kizmal possessed frightening power, and a battle of attrition was not a viable option against a giant capable of eradicating them with one good move.
Eighteen.
The magic number, the number of hearts they needed to destroy to kill it. While it was still far-fetched to say Kizmal would crumble after they destroyed the required number of hearts, but it was still a solid plan.
It was a goal in mind, and that helped them greatly.
"Damn it..."
Edward shuddered as he saw the massive body of Kizmal rise from the grave, swathes of water fell from the rising corpse, and threatened to drown them. Edward was not alone, everyone besides Alan was shaking.
