At that exact moment, the communication between Mel's brain and his vessel was severed for a spell; time, space, emotion, and thought blurred into one another, and unable to bear such a massive burden, his body collapsed into the dirt. He could sense the presence of the wild beasts a few strides away, yet he lacked the motor control to even hoist his arms and swing.
Danger was right beside him; in fact, a wild beast small enough to choke with both hands had even trotted over and licked his face, yet despite this, Mel proved incapable of moving. He remained exactly where he fell until a green wind scooped his vessel up and carried it meters away, and he couldn't break free from this state until his eyes locked onto the old man hovering on the brink of death.
"Who the hell are you? How do you know about the Killing Cycle?"
