Seconds, yes. The animals ready and primed, their heft both lethal and serviceably slowing. He has enough creatures doing battle to understand the fundamental (de)merits of their shape and address them.

This isn't that. Only a shortcut between in the calisthenics of understanding how to position himself, where to make himself small. When to act.

"I'm a..." No. No time for that. A wizard, then requiring the demonstration, then the typical suspension of disbelief. Men want proof, proof takes time, and Hector is staring down at the face of bulbous, thick-hooved and horny death. With certainty.

"If we're stranded, I can create a protective warding area." He sighs, rubble slipping underfoot as he shifts his weight. "But it won't be... subtle."

Bars of light have a way of drawing the eye.