[@Estylwen][@ERode][@Sifr][@Psyker Landshark][@AThousandCurses]

[b][h3]AUDITORIUM[/h3][/b]

The young Bronsteel's eyes became bloodshot in rage, watching in shock as his would-be direct hit towards Iraleth was redirected, the oh-so-familiar shadow witch becoming its recipient instead. "You...!" He had no time, however. There was no time, not when a voice ripped through the auditorium and threatened to pull his heart out with its cutting words. An announcement, something so mundane in comparison to the lights and shadows displacing the room and the gunshots ringing through hoards of lifeless puppets. And yet, above everything else, Chunji's words in that moment made Gulliver's blood run cold, frozen as the words shot through him as keenly as a bullet through one of his servants. "How-"

[i]Knock knock.[/i]

"Bah?!" With a startle and a jolt, Gulliver stepped a half-inch backwards from his place on the grand stage, confused and paranoid. In that moment, Otis would also receive a pang of acknowledgement that his knock had been received by [i]both[/i] Gullivers - the one on the stage, and a separate pulse emanating from within the core of the giant. For the Bronsteel lordling, though, there was no time to dwell on matters of less concern than the righteous paladin charging right for his giant. The clock on the Foreteller's right arm reached a rumbling repetition of ticking and tocking throughout the room, its speed now allowing a full rotation of the clock's hands every half second, sounding as if something that had long been building in this fight was about to be unleashed.

Despite this, Gulliver clicked his tongue as Iraleth rushed towards the Foreteller - whatever he was about to unleash, it wasn't ready yet. It would need a few more seconds, much like how the shutters would only need those same precious seconds to fully close and cloak the room in darkness. The pale mage would take a defiant stomp forwards as Iraleth charged, his eyes wide with frustration, his teeth baring for her as electricity crackled and danced across his fingertips. "Buzzing [i]gnat[/i]! I tire of your flailing. Let your struggles come to a whimpering end!"

As he charged another blast, this time doubling in potency from the last, fueled by his rage, another unexpected turn would reveal itself from the other side of the auditorium. A tall figure emerged from a wall near the front entrance, breaking through with reckless abandon. As the dust from the rubble cleared, the tall and looming figure of a Mannekin wearing a chef's hat and carrying a rolling pin the size of a greatclub burst onto the scene, scanning and only catching the exit of Otis. It seemed like the Strigidae was its primary target, and failing that, stomped its foot down in quiet rage, breaking apart a floorboard as it instead turned its gaze towards Chunji. It seemed to possess some recognition of the boy's contribution to the fight, and stormed straight towards him like a raging barbarian, lunging with the speed of a charging bull and swinging its rolling pin with the fury of a minotaur. The sheer air force with each swing would seem to break apart wood and stone it might haphazardly aim at in the crossfire, and it also proved surprisingly agile, breakdancing and backflipping to repel and mitigate attacks while attempting its own counterattacks.

Similarly, a Mannekin dressed in a kimono would descend upon Hildegunde, seemingly from out of nowhere amidst the crowd of puppets and chaotic explosions, lights and ever-growing darkness. As it descended, it would attempt an open-palm strike on her, following up with a flurry of kicks attempting to strike at her torso without losing so much as a half second of momentum upon landing, ending the unrelenting combo with a jumping axe kick that it would attempt to land right on the top of her head.

The speed of these Mannekin and the other less-notable grunts scattered about seemed to pick up with each strike, and as more Mannekin fell into pieces, the remaining ones seemed to become drastically more efficient fighters.

The Foreteller, meanwhile, grew more sluggish as its clock sped up and as it received more damage, to the point where it easily fell for the feints Iraleth had baited it into - an amateurish punch that met only air as Iraleth gouged into its chest. Its plate crumbled away layer by layer, surprisingly more brittle than it looked. Gulliver inhaled and exhaled rapidly, sweating and gasping for air as his lightning charge had reached its peak. Iraleth had reached the core inside, cleaving and ripping through the gears and wiring and piercing the rubbery cocoon that dwelled in its center, pained screams emerging from the Gulliver on stage in that moment as he began overcharging himself while maintaining a hateful stare, locked onto Iraleth fully as his lightning began to shock himself, becoming a swirling ball of blue electricity. It was at that moment that Iraleth saw the Gulliver within Foreteller's core, his eyes closed and blissfully unaware as if asleep.

"[b]DON'T![/b]" It was all the stage Gulliver could scream as he saw his duplicate ripped from the Foreteller, which went limp immediately in that moment, an inanimate giant in a heartbeat. "AAAAAAAAAAGH!"

A stream of lightning intense enough to flash throughout the entire auditorium, blinding all in its path, became a concentrated beam of hatred-fueled force directed and arcing towards Iraleth. His scream of frustration was drowned out by the deafening sound of thunder that followed the blast, whether it hit or not. He seemed to have no regard for Foreteller, making no effort to waste time aiming around it, seemingly blinded by rage such that he was willing to scorch his guardian, Iraleth and his own doppelganger - a sorcerer throwing a toddler's tantrum.

The air was hot and charged, the wall on the other side of the auditorium slowly crumbling away from the force of the blast - a spell that would not stop at its intended target, but shoot clear through to char the opposite wall. As he panted while watching the result of his attack, his Mannekin continued their assault on their respective foes. At the same time, one more crucial factor would come into play.

Only one shutter remained before the auditorium was plunged into darkness.