Shield tanks bullets and lasers

I hefted the enormous shield in front of me, then slammed it home with the full weight of its incredible mass — all as though it was as light as a feather.

“Get behind me,” I ordered.

Lisa and Amy scrambled to their feet and huddled next to me behind the bulk of my shield, even as more bullets peppered our location — and bounced impotently off the surface of Lord Camelot without leaving so much as a scratch.

Of course. This was Lord Camelot, after all, the shield of Sir Galahad of the Round Table. It was an embodiment of that castle and its towering walls, built from the Round Table itself, and as long as the heart remained steadfast and true, it could never be broken. To imagine that mere bullets would be enough to even scuff it was laughable.

Light flashed suddenly, the air sizzled in its wake, and I had to blink my eyes as the searing yellow afterimage of a laser — dissipating like so much rain water against my shield — burned itself into my retinas. Even with Galahad’s speed, I hadn’t been able to see it before it hit.