Remirg's mind had gone completely numb. No neuronic reaction took place. He stood there rooted to the spot, staring right at the emptiness lying right below his elbow, from the where the arm was cleanly severed, leaving all but a clean cut where the membranes, muscle fiber and ligaments could clearly be seen.
Blood burst out of the cut the very next moment, bathing Remirg's already drained face, as pale as the dead, dark crimson, thick reddish black blood painting his face.
The wraiths paid no heed as they moved forward, ready to deliver the killing blow.
Remirg was feeling no pain at all, his mind shutting off the excruciating feeling the very moment he had laid eyes on his severed arm. His brain had automatically reacted to the situation and the rush of adrenaline of losing an arm was overcoming his sense of pain.
