Raizen's mind froze in the worst way.
A second ago, Enya owned the battlefield. She cut fog apart with living wood, turned rain into background noise, and killed Nyxes like they were toys.
Then the dark projectile hit. A clean, violent impact to the chest, followed by a blast that obliterated her vines and left a hole in the air where she used to be.
Now she fell.
And Raizen's body still didn't move.
He stood there with his blades half raised, rain sliding off them, staring up as if staring harder could rewind time. He felt his breath catch, and a piece of him kept thinking it wasn't real. Enya didn't fall. Enya didn't lose control. Enya didn't get hit.
But the armor tumbled through the gray like a broken doll, not caring about what he thought.
Raizen's grip tightened until his knuckles hurt. His eyes tracked the fall, tracked the distance, tracked the angle, tracked how the wind and rain pushed her just slightly off where she should've landed.
