His left hand came up and found Drex's shoulder—thin The Final Distance ice, barely there, the generation at its absolute floor.
The encasement at the chest deepened.
Second structural layer.
Third.
Drex fired everything remaining from the field in a single pulse directed outward from the chest contact point—the absolute last of the compression, spent entirely in one moment, detonating against Cullen's pressing palm and the thin ice and everything the contact was building.
The hand went back.
Drex stood with three structural layers of ice on his chest and no field left and a compression reserve at zero.
Cullen stood with bare arms and a generation rate at zero and both hands free.
They looked at each other.
The crowd was completely silent.
