A searing pain shot through Ezra's body as he looked down at the weapon jutting out of his torso.
Like a leaky pipe, purple blood began flowing out of the wound, and should the spear be removed, the flow of blood would become more akin to a gushing fountain.
This was a truly grievous wound, even for someone like Ezra. He could feel that some of his internal organs were damaged, and that it was only a matter of time before the injury became fatal if he did not receive treatment.
Still, as Oliva tried to retract her spear and deliver a finishing blow, Ezra reached down and grabbed the shaft that was sticking out of him.
Summoning all of his willpower and strength, he kept the hard light spear in place even as he felt it jerking around his insides and causing more damage.
The agony was nearly paralyzing, but he could not give up. To stop now would mean death for him, and the continued enslavement of his friend.
