Sir Kay's hands began to bleed.
The blood came not from wounds not from cuts or gashes or any injury inflicted by the falling rods. It came from within. His palms turned bright red, then pale blue, the colors shifting and swirling like a bruise spreading across his flesh.
His body had been pushed to its limit.
He had never used such a technique for defense alone. Never needed to. The Dragon Spiral was designed for attack for cutting down enemies, for breaking through lines, for victory. Using it like this as a shield, as an umbrella, as a desperate barrier against an endless rain of black steel burned resources his body could not replenish.
The water level of his entire body dropped.
Eighty percent. More. His lips cracked. His skin paled. His tongue swelled in his mouth, dry and useless. He was dehydrating faster than any human should be able to survive.
His muscles kicked into overdrive.
They burned. They expended energy at a rate that should have been impossible. They began to break the laws of biology twisting, thickening, reconfiguring themselves to guarantee his survival.
His muscle mass grew smaller.
But his muscle density increased. Eight times what it had been. Eight times denser. His arms became heavier, harder, more like forged steel than living flesh.
Sir Kay's eyes stopped blinking.
They were open. Wide. Red. The water that had kept them moist was almost completely gone. When he turned his eyes tracking the falling rods, calculating their trajectories friction generated within the sockets.
His eyes bled.
Thin lines of crimson traced down his cheeks, mixing with the sweat and the blood that already covered his face.
And yet
The rain of black rods did not stop.
They kept falling. Kept crashing. Kept pounding against his dragon spiral, against his will, against everything he had left to give.
For a single second, Sir Kay looked away.
His eyes found the other group Sir Tristan, Sir Percival, Sir Galahad. He watched as Sir Galahad raised the Sword of David. Watched as the blade cut through the air. Watched as rifts opened wounds in the fabric of reality itself and the rods fell into them, disappearing from this world.
Good, Kay thought. At least they're still standing.
He turned back to the rain.
And kept fighting.
Kay's hands bled.
His eyes bled.
His body screamed.
But he did not fall