Ren felt a genuine surge of hope take root in his chest… He could actually win this race.
The margin of victory would be razor-thin, measured in mere seconds purchased by the jagged crystals dissolving against the corrupted flesh below, yet it was a viable path.
He held a distinct physical advantage because he was currently in an uninterrupted freefall; he did not need to clumsily stretch and contort a grotesque, stitched-together mass of thousands of mutants just to navigate the descent with a massive body.
He was a missile locked onto its target.
Then, he sensed Selthia's ethereal signature materializing right behind him.
Anticipating the familiar point-blank ambush, Ren braced himself for the impact. He twisted his torso in mid-air, commanding the orbiting ruin crystals and primordial cores to shift with his momentum to intercept her strike and get pushed even faster.
However, the little Witch did not appear within striking distance.
