[center][img]http://data.whicdn.com/images/147991305/superthumb.jpg[/img][/center]
[color=red][h1][center]Christopher Francis[/center][/h1][/color]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center][hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕦𝕟: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟚𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ.   / /   ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕪   / /  ~𝟙𝟚𝟝𝟘[/color][/center][hr]

The journey towards the slime monster was a whole new experience he'd remember to dread. Each step wallowed him with pain and his broken body made him feel he was carrying some great burden of weight; A feeling he tried to relate to his expression of 'carrying crosses.' Seeing the edge of the slime brought him both satisfaction that he able to make the journey, but also a wave of dread as he now had to figure out what he could do in his current condition.

Even as he had mere moments to consider his next plan of action upon the creeping ooze, his body was giving out. The whole treck he traveled was pathed in his own toxic blood, red streaks dripping through his veil of fire that still burned over his fire; showing that his blood didn't even boil from the flames just like his flesh. That sense of despair, or idea of loss against these vile creatures only gave him more motivation, more reason to keep going. No matter how exhausted he grew, how much pain he'd go through, he would not let his body yield. Though at that point he was well aware that there was only so much raw will power can do in his current state. Determination could only push his body forward, not ignore his injuries.

There was no proper strategy, innovation, or idea he could come up with. What followed then was more along the lines of a desperate animal that was out of logical options; there was no thought of his own safety or proper plan, to him this felt more along the lines of an innate instinct. Chris, despite every fiber of his sore maw wished he hadn't, released the loudest rage-filled cry of a monster he could muster; a fierce toned roar that lingered in length and pitch from pain and weakness, a sound that only reflected more so of a desperate animal in a blind fighting instinct instead of some kind of plea for help. 

Chris picked up one nearby car with his maw and flung it towards the slime, followed by two more cars which he flung over with his tail. With three tossed cars aligned in a row in the ooze, Chris unleashed a jet of flames underneath them to ignite and burst their fuel tanks. With what strength he could muster, the dragon-arbiter then limped over and leaped through the wall of flames he created into the ooze, and proceeded to trudge through the slime in hopes that the fire around him would aid in damaging the monster. Or at the very least, help him in move through it with his failing strength.