Time stretched itself into infinity during those panicked few seconds. Every fraction of a second feeling like it lasted for hours, every moment that she hadn't reached her comrade, that she could still see that sword plunging towards his forehead, was another moment wasted.
Yet the few feet that she had to cross, such a miserably small distance, was a canyon compared to the distance the sword had to swing.
But she had to try.
She knew her movement wasn't going to be enough, her legs had no muscles that she could train to propel her faster. She had dissolved them, turning them into a single column of slime that connected to her at the waist, yet even that had to obey some form of physics.
So as she flowed across the ground like a living tidal wave, Cynthia acted out of pure instinct.
