Arthur's remaining hand shot upward, clamping onto the tip of Duskhand's spear, trying to halt its descent, every muscle in his arm screaming under the strain.
With only one hand, he couldn't use all his strength, but he still fought back as much as he could, forcing all the strength in the arm into the desperate grip, activating every strength-amplification ability he had as he pushed against the force of the descending spear.
Duskhand pressed down with both hands, grey light crackling and burning around the spear, each push piercing the weapon further into Arthur's chest.
A sizzling sound filled the air, and the smell of burnt flesh filled Arthur's nose as the grey light around the spear seared his palm.
His skin peeled, and his flesh underneath burned and blackened under the power of creation, his bones beginning to soften and melt under the radiant energy.
