He used Hrothgar like a stepping stone, throwing himself high into the air toward the incoming shell.
The shell continued toward him like a truck, and the two collided, but just before they could touch, Galthor's hand snapped forward in a punch that caused a mini sonic boom around his fist.
Hitting the shell was like hitting a mountain, and it sounded almost the same as well, sending a painful ripple down his right hand even with all the divine energy covering it.
The shell wasn't any better though; an imprint of a fist was smacked at the top, and the whole thing had come to a sudden halt that sent waves crashing around it.
Galthor didn't let go of the opportunity as he used his left hand to grip the edge of the shell and pulled himself to its back. The shell shook and shuddered, but he held on stubbornly.
"Now what?" Galthor whispered. "This shell has no life in it. What I felt earlier was likely the will, the intent behind it that's driving the shell."
