He was losing health any second. In just a few minutes, he would die.
Though that would never happen. At the end of the day, there was an elder overseeing the trials. Realistically, if he did not recover soon enough, what would truly happen is that the Black Tortoise would begin to launch another attack.
Then it would come short of doing so, and it would be marked as his defeat. He had to circumvent that outcome.
And yet he could not move.
His wand was in his hand, frozen together with it. Though he could not move, he could do something else.
Lance of Light.
The spell generated at the top of his wand, and immediately exploded against the ice entrapping him. Ice went flying out, and the very hand he held his wand with was lacerated further than it already was.
He did not cease. He only cast it as much as he possibly could.
Lance of Light. Lance of Light. Lance of Light.
