The creature was already across the arena, desperately working to purge itself.
This is the only chance I'm going to get.
He didn't hesitate. Didn't pause to assess his own state more carefully or pull the severed arm from his chest.
Leon screamed—not from pain, but to force every last drop of focus into what came next—and lunged forward across the arena.
"FREEZE!!!"
Not shouted. Not whispered. Something in between—a word spoken with complete, absolute conviction through a bloody mouth, infused through his Leximancy with every fractional measure of his spatial racial trait pushed beyond anything he'd attempted before.
The effect was immediate.
