His body stood hanging from the ceiling, no matter how much he told his body to activate the dash.
He was going to die...all because he had miscounted.
Three seconds.
He was off by three.
There is not enough time to activate the dash or form a corrupted wing to teleport out.
Not yet giving up, Ren immediately threw his hand that wasn't holding onto the ceiling upward.
With a split second, the fist of the hand was covered in pitch-black corruption and a centimeter away from the ceiling.
Feeling his fist crumble upon hitting the hard ceiling, Ren shuddered, biting his lip to distract himself and continue pushing upward.
However, even with corruption coating his fist, he couldn't break through the vaulted ceiling with raw power.
Tasting the salty and metallic taste of blood, Ren wanted his two divine blue sword slashes, at the forefront of the multiple attacks, to get closer and closer to him.
