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As he flew through the trees, he materialized a second copy of his own armor and dumped it behind him, making sure to empower it with his soul. It was just a rough decoy, not at all intricate or accurate, but it didn't need to impress. It only needed to distract. Even if for a split second, that would be enough. Because he intended to make more.

Making them move probably would've helped, but that felt like too much. His attention was already so divided, and he hadn't devoted any serious practice time to armored puppetry. And he didn't have time to mull it over now, either. The decisions were just flying. He had to trust his gut.

He dropped off more rough lumps of armor, all vaguely Hector-shaped, and kept going. The majority of his attention had to remain on the Bandas. Four of them. Still pursuing. Farther behind, sure, but not far enough for his liking.

And this forest wasn't that big, either. Gray Rock wasn't exactly known for its greenery.

Without warning, a massive bed of red spikes shot up from the ground, and Hector barely blocked it in time with the shield. Instead of being completely skewered, he was sent tumbling skyward, back above the canopy again.

Fuck. They were closing in again. All four at once. More attacks trying to smother him.

Still reeling, he didn't bother trying to stabilize again. He just launched himself in the opposite direction and loosed as many molten cubes behind him as he could. They were haphazard and inaccurate, but they just needed to provide some cover for him. To give Banda something to think about.

And he had plenty to spare. Even as he fired, he didn't stop loading new ones up.

These were bigger than the minigun-style bullets he'd shot earlier, but he wasn't trying to make them explode to disperse smoke. In that sense, at least, they were easier to process and churn out.

But something was wrong. Agh. Another laser had clipped his leg. Half of it was gone.

That wasn't the problem, though. That was just a nuisance. Another distraction. No, he had to concentrate. The real problem was that those decoy armors hadn't worked at all. Banda hadn't gotten distracted even a tiny bit.

Another background thought process tried to create itself and search for an answer, even as his mind was already pressed so hard between flight, counterattacking with bombardment, and managing all of his sensory input. Three entire thought processes, each operating with maximum urgency, was already pushing it. A fourth on top of all that, even at a lower intensity, was definitely beyond his limit.

But he needed that answer.

And thankfully, it didn't take him long to realize.