Atlan crash-landed on the shore of the lake, with mud and soil welcoming his descent.
He coughed up blood. Losing 500 years of SoulTime was no painless endeavor. After all, this was the first time he'd ever been injured to this extent. It was a miracle he could even keep his consciousness.
Despite reaching his goal, Atlan found it extremely hard to move his entire body. The fact that his battle suit was thousands of tons of weight didn't help him a slight bit.
The problem was the fact that he overloaded his False Mutation so much that his muscles were basically too tired to even muster up any strength.
This meant that he wouldn't be able to move his entire body at all. He'd just have to lay in the soil, waiting for the inevitable arrow that pierced through his heart.
"Are you okay?!"
"I can't…I can't…even move a finger…"
"How much SoulTime did you lose?"
"500 years."