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Hector took aim again while flying backwards. He used precious seconds to focus in on the next clone. More attacks flew in his direction, enough so that he had to change course. With the Scarf, he could just barely sense the deadly red clouds ahead and avoid them.

He loosed another molten cube, but this time he missed. It sailed right passed the intended clone, and he grit his teeth in frustration. He didn't get even a brief reprieve from Banda's assault. If anything, Banda went harder. More lasers, more explosions, more gas.

And more clones. There were four Bandas again.

That wasn't good for his morale. Now it felt like he wasn't even making progress. Like everything he'd done up to now was pointless.

He put it out of his mind, though. How he felt about that didn't matter. Only the fight did. Only protecting Warrenhold.

He could feel Banda's aura more strongly than ever now. Its anger. Its domineering pressure. Its hunger.

Banda didn't just want to win the fight. He wanted to break Hector's spirit. Or put a different way, he wanted his aura to win over Hector's aura.

It was like a thousand invisible hands, all trying to strangle him or hold him. Trying to will him into giving up before the fight was even done.

He'd felt this before. Multiple times, in fact, and not just from Banda. So it didn't bother him.

But it was also more intense than he'd ever felt it before, too. The heat of the battle made it so. Banda's aura was growing feverish. Uncontrolled.

Animalistic.

And before his very eyes, Hector could see that same feeling making itself into a reality. Banda's clones were each shifting more solidly into that chaotic form from earlier, that dinosaur-looking thing. Their movements were becoming more unpredictable, too, as if instinct was taking over.

They weren't thinking and planning, anymore. Not strategizing. Just reacting. Just pursuing. Just trying to satisfy their appetite.

Perhaps these developments could've been good for Hector. If Banda wasn't thinking, then surely it would be easier to outsmart him.

But this deep into the fight, when he was already struggling to not be swarmed and overwhelmed, this might've been the worst possible thing to happen.

Because Banda was getting faster. The clones--the literal raptors--were getting closer. Hector had at least been able to keep ahead of them before with his barely-controlled flying ability, but now that wasn't the case. He could already tell.

Sooner or later, they were going to catch him.