The change was violently instantaneous.
It was not the apocalyptic, world-ending density of the million-fold multiplier he used to wield as a Grand Sovereign. It was a pure, concentrated doubling of his base physical and conceptual limits.
His muscles tore and instantly healed. They bulged against the fabric of his tailored suit with explosive, unnatural power. His sensory perception accelerated to the point where the chaotic battlefield seemed to freeze in place.
The spinning sparks from the destroyed turrets hung in the air. The plasma bolts fired by the escort skiffs crawled forward like lazy, glowing bugs.
One second.
Arthur did not hesitate. He planted his heavy boots on the footpegs of the speeding grav-bike and launched himself directly into the air. He left the bike behind, his body flying forward like a fired missile.
He flew straight toward the glowing blue energy shields protecting the back of the engine car.
