The moment Lith collided with the spatial crack, he knew that something horrible would happen. Twisting and turning his body despite the blinding agony, Lith managed to use air magic to avoid crashing head first against it.

But with the little margin he had, and the feeble energy he managed to muster, avoiding the fissure entirely was impossible. His left arm penetrated it up to the head of the humerus, giving him the feeling that someone had thrown a massive boulder from a cliff, but not before gluing his left hand to it.

It was like every single cell in his arm had been put into a blender filled with gasoline and a flint. It stretched endlessly in the deformed space, appearing and disappearing multiple times from different spatial cracks, before they finally closed down under the effect of Linjos’ artifact.

The result was that both Lith and his left arm were finally free from the dimensional vise. But while he was still where he had fallen, the arm was about twenty meters (66′) away, cleanly cut from the shoulder with inhuman precision.

Lith’s world turned red when his mind went beyond the pain and the blood gushing out of the stump, realizing what had happened. No matter how many times he had mentally simulated the event in the past, the shock of the amputation almost overwhelmed him.

Almost.

Emitting an outraged roar rather than a scream of pain, Lith used what energy he had left to stop the bleeding, before his body collapsed due to the accumulated damage.