Bruce pricked a particular nerve center in his neck with a Ki-tipped finger, kicking his reflexes into overdrive and giving his instincts reign over his body's reactionary motions. His platform fell sideways at a right angle as Bruce heaved his weight to one side to avoid the first projectiles. He couldn't match Zelriane's speed, but with his body moving faster than his brain, it left him with more singed robe and less physical damage. He even departed his platform at several points, always seamlessly bringing himself back to it, rolling, flipping and twisting- his body dictated its own movements.
The network of chains that had risen from the floor snapped taut vertically and wrapped around Bruce and Zelriane with a huge diameter, the vertical chains close enough to prevent escape. A horizontal series completed a cylindrical grid that covered the ground and reached for the upper ceiling of this dimension. The cage encroached slowly, gaps in the grid tightening until only a hand might be able to get through. The mace that Zelriane avoided before broke apart into a dozen identical swords to the one Bruce carried a sheath for. His earthen right hand circled around the outside perimeter of the cage, looking as though it were patrolling for the perfect instant.