Forty-five minutes...
One hour...
The fight turned into a blur of desperate defense and more and more creative ways to stay alive. Greg couldn't remember how many times his shield had saved his life or someone else's.
His arm was more than numb right now because it was in a state of detached pain where he could feel the damage happening, but his brain wouldn't let him process it. Marina was now fighting on pure instinct, and her frying pan movements were wild and out of control, but they still worked.
Greg's pocket crystal for communication started to vibrate. He didn't have time to respond and didn't even have the breath. The person who was calling would have to wait.
One hour and thirty minutes...
Bork fell when a spear construct got past his guard and stabbed him in the shoulder. He screamed in pain, but he was able to break the weapon with his bare hands before Lylia could pull him behind cover.
