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@HereComesTheSnow

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Esben wiped his hair out of his eyes. He hadn't yet stepped out from behind the cover of his own pillar, but that made little difference to the torrents that Leviathan was intent on unleashing upon the party. The rest were similarly drenched, some worse than others; it was nearly impossible not to notice Éliane a short ways behind him, struggling with a thoroughly waterlogged rotary cannon. "Of course she tried to set that up here," he muttered to himself.

It was a shame she hadn't been a bit faster, given what the eidolon was up to now. He wasn't much of a monster fighter, after all.

He jogged over, coming to a stop behind a nearby pile of rubble. "May I borrow your rifle? I promise I'll try not to break it." With an unhappy glance his way, she handed it over wordlessly before returning to her impromptu maintenance. Esben nodded appreciatively, peeking back over his new cover. "Cover your ears, Eos," he commanded sternly, before disengaging the safety and firing on Leviathan's barrier.

He would have called Selene back, as well, to try and speed up Éliane's work—but the glowing sprite had ideas all her own. Given that Izayoi hadn't been able to capitalize on the boost she gave, and already well aware of just how fast the samurai was, she had left her side and made her way over to Rudolf. She shuddered for a moment coming close to him, like a chill wind had just passed her by, before pressing closer. Once again, her glow suffused Rudolf, and the younger man would suddenly find himself moving noticeably faster.

Out of the corner of his eye, Esben could see Miina preparing a similar spell, from what he'd seen of her repertoire thus far. "Put it on Rudolf, Miina!" he called, before sending another shot into the barrier. If they were to bring everything they had to bear against the Eidolon, then until Éliane was ready to fire with the cannon, letting loose a whirlwind of blades was nearly their only option—letting Rudolf become a whirlwind all his own seemed an effective enough method, especially if he was bringing his own borrowed powers into the mix.

@The Otter@Psyker Landshark@Raineh Daze

There was no resistance as his blades passed through the space where the Serpent's neck had lain, mere fractions of a second beforehand. No impact to shock his bones, a sensation that all the same seemed to almost shatter him. The silence too was deafening— a void where the sound of, if nothing else, the ring of her sturdy scales rebuking the steel of his twinned swords should have filled his ears. At once, the embattled boy's blood turned to ice, as the tail ends of a sideswiped guffaw rang in his head.

Oh, that is rough. You had better be real careful when you next enter the Gold Saucer, and this is what we get for it.

A choked, gritty snarl escaped Rudi's throat, as the taunting impulse left him a parting gift of 'look up, by the way', prompting him to throw his body to the side as Leviathan's massive head hurtled down to crush him, before her instinctive jerk away from Galahad and his falling lance (by some burnt stroke of luck coming to roost) corrected her course and brought her skull crashing into his torso regardless, knocking him into a far-less controlled tumble. Not far away, he heard the seas roar, as water surged around her.

Without really thinking, he slammed the wings into the earth, trying to arrest his movement once he felt the ground beneath him again. He'd put on as brave a face as any for this Trial, but really... what the hell were they thinking? Any of them, let alone him? This was a primordial Eidolon.

The seas roared, and then crashed. He hardly had time to look up, before his wings were stripped and he once again was tossed away, a rag caught in riptide.

Of course they could hardly scratch her. Of course he would miss— her falsified counterpart, a zombie faye with a coral horns and some parlor tricks tacked on compared to the real thing, had already been enough to nearly wash him away beneath the tides, barely a scratch made in return.

He coughed and hacked as he tried to clear the stinging salt and swelling sea from his lungs, his nose. His hands were free now, he could tell that through the proprioception that didn't need to reorient itself after the second trip through maelstrom in as many weeks. They managed to clear enough of the spray from his brow, and slick away enough hair, to crack one eye open.

His swords, plunged into the earth and bereft their wielder. His teammates, all strewn across the field as he was. Their hope of proving their valor before the storm. Before the storm, he felt a paper tiger.

Leviathan, encasing herself in a roiling orb of brine, as raw aether gathered within each bubble of the foaming waves that surged within. Her coup de grace, surely. He watched Izayoi's wind slash tear into the barrier's outer layer for an instant... but be itself shredded, swallowed, and sealed when it passed.

He had stashed Valon's lance not far from here.

But what was the point?

Each word of the Lady of Whorls' furor echoed in his mind like a ringing bell, the thunderclap of an oncoming hurricane. Even as his grasp closed around the weighty lance, and his heart hammered as he tried to will himself onward, he saw no way through. If Izayoi, who had once rent open the seas not so long ago, couldn't manage... then surely he would fare no better. Even with all the power he had borrowed, he could barely force his way through a pale imitation of her whorls. Let alone this barrier.

It was beyond him. His measure was not there. He could throw himself against that thing all he liked— for him, for any of them, it was as a steel wall. The side of an ironclad fortress, while Leviathan's mighty cannon was doubtlessly mere moments away from firing, whatever that huge mass of power was going to be. This was their last moment. This, in all the important ways left, was the trial. And it had found them wanting.

Out of time. Out of options.

... Shots rang out. Voices, screaming over the boiling roar of the tides. They were lost to him. All he could hear was the rushing water. All he could feel was the bitter cold sinking into his bones, the way it had below the waves.

And then, tiny hands brushed his shoulder for a fleeting moment, and the outstretched palm of another desperate ally he couldn't see turned itself over to his direction. Paired blessings, anointing him, of all those present, as the one who would act. And...

---

Time... shifts.

---

By its lonesome, being granted haste is an unnatural rush through the nerves. It’s like every weight upon you, right to your own skin, has been lifted and pulled away. Lightning, blessed by Dhinas, courses through you where your blood used to be. Your vision sharpens. Your hearing almost fades.

It’s free access to that oft-mythologized “flow state” every follower of Himstus knows of. It’s more than that, even— already, I watch the grains of sand fall through the hourglass one by one. Already, I can feel the aether surging through me, as I live these seconds more thoroughly than any I have known.

With one haste layered upon them, even an untrained commoner can equal the finest knight in raw velocity, the fleetness of foot and thought. While I’m no warrior savant, I would still like to believe myself well-trained; enough that I have stepped quite broadly into the realm of supernatural. No man may reach that peak for more than a moment through their own training. It doesn’t matter who they are. This is why the spell is so coveted by warriors the world over— imagine dehydrating yourself for three days only to take a liter of coffee right to the dome. It's the difference between standing still and a dead sprint. Between a dull gray and a blinding, blazing red. It’s like life has been breathed into you, when you had forgotten you were one foot in the grave.

That is the first haste.

The second… feels…

—I crouch low. A sprinter’s stance. The grip on my armament is white at the knuckles but my arm is still, calm. Ahead of me, I watch the world that had slowed to a half-crawl seem to stop. Eons later, my mind finds the word, this taking so long a testament to how poorly I learn for all my good teachers’ efforts—

…Multiplicative.

I look to Miina, her arm still outstretched in the instant her spell took hold upon me. I realize that I have spent this same instant coming to terms with my new echelon, and am spending yet more of it looking over my shoulder to Esben. There is still smoke rising from his rifle, and the fairy that brought her wind to me, Selene, is still far closer to me than him. Her wings do not beat. They drift.

I am as removed from the first haste as that state was from my highest natural gear. I wonder for a moment if I might not explode, having this much magical potential running through my veins like white hot magma. My chest is soft, warm down, a chocobo's feathers in the summer. My limbs do not feel themselves move, they are so filled by energy— I simply trust that they have, because I've no other recourse. My heart hammers like the whole of Midgar. I'm not sure I can truly discern one beat from the next.

Worrying? Ought to be. But I have to shelve it. In this altered state, that is oddly easy.

Finally, I return my gaze in that moment to Leviathan ahead. Even in this eternal second, the energy of her channeled aether is powerful enough that even those of us that have not been cursed with naturalborn ability to manipulate the breath of the world can feel it in our bones, in the deep, gnawing dread. That shell around her too, an aquamarine pearl of surging steel, is still no doubt strong as ever. I’ll need to punch above my weight all the same.

Memories flash through me, collected images and words. I am before a fire, hearing Galahad’s advice. Let the weight of the spear’s head carry it through the lead, and follow with my body behind. Gather my energy through the legs and trunk, then leap forward.

I had given the concept a try a few times between then and now. Too committed and too singular for fighting another man, but… I have it down enough to level against a big, stationary, and undeniably protected target as this.

I am at the dunes, after giving all I had to a burst of non-hasted speed, thrusting out the strongest barrier in my arsenal and watching it nevertheless begin to crack as a titan tried to force its way through. Even though it in and of itself was a singular moment I had forged.

So from that my lesson is that there is no necessarily uncrackable wall. No barrier that can’t at least be weakened, if you hit it hard enough behind a sturdy enough weapon. And this thing, pilfered though it is, profaned though it is, was made to pierce through a mighty wyrm’s hide. And I will put behind it a strike at least as hard as that Revenant tried to impale us with.

I am below the waves, lunging for this Eidolon’s false copy, a faye reanimated and trapping me in the leaden notes of her song. It was only a scratch upon her scales, and only piercing a vortex instead of a whole barrier, but my blackened flames do still shepherd my blade home.

How much can I pour into punching through that thing? What do I have left to burn? Enough to reach out and touch this eidolon... a little more thoroughly than a scratch?

A second voice answers me. You’re not particularly giving yourself much time to live out the fortune you’ve already shaved off, it says. It’s rather businesslike about the ordeal through that stilted, staccato cadence it always goads me with, but I can feel an intrigued smile at the corner of the entity’s nonexistent lips. Everyone, eventually, runs out of luck. Period. Not just the good stuff, but the bad stuff too. Still, there’s good news and bad news to this. I can still give you the blaze you want. Enough to fortify this strike further than any other... but you’re going to be hearing a lot more from me from now on.

With something quicker than a thought, Valon’s spear is a bonfire of profaned flame, the black tongues erupting from my palm and licking at the air as though writ upon the world with a heavy, broad calligraphy brush and anthracite ink.

You know, I for once don’t feel like living my next days dreading the bad news— not when I first need to go and earn them, from the bad news that’s already before me. If I turned a day’s finger over on the monkey’s paw once already in this fight, this one…

Yeah, I’m better off not even knowing what I’ve just done to my life. At least until I know I’ll get there. I’ve surely sold some noble end twice over by now, so if I am to die an unlucky man here…

That’s the spirit, champ. It says, pleased that I know better. The conversation is over. My vision, so broad and clear with the speed I am granted, narrows to a pinpoint.

The body no longer responds to the will. If anything, the opposite is true. My mind is informed by the shape my action gives it. The motion is already there. The messages sent long past. At this unreachable pinnacle that only Izayoi has known, intent is not call and response. It is holistic, pure, as it puts power through my legs.

My breath is a hurricane. My twisted aether the black storm. My weapon, and my limbs, the crashing lightning.

My mind, the eye. Serene at the center. Nothing left to do.

For the first and only time, for I know I will never reach this again, I understand why she responds in a more reverent voice than she affords her prayers for our victory, when I ask what she is missing from the days of her prime. I understand it now. This is where we warriors reach out and touch divinity.

The instant overflows. I taste the Godspeed.

The ground cracks beneath my feet, and that fractional moment, that lone shard of still time I had been living out so much within fades into the aether, as I launch myself through the next. The flames at the tip of my bloodred lance gain ruddy hue as I cross the distance, a streak of black in my wake. I am suddenly before her, throwing my whole being behind the point.

Ye serpent, crawling at the base of the World, the cradle at the roots of life itself. You are of the primordial sea, to it you were cast, and to it you shall return, by thy ancient name in my tongue— Jormungandr. I anoint the weapon in this boy’s hands the same as the wise old man who first tossed you to the mighty oceans. The one-eyed king, in the land of the blind. It will strike every bit as true as that which was hewn from the Yggdrasil. Strength and skill will not stray it from its mark, for it is the wolfbiter, the swordbreaker, the rocking—

At first haste, I believe I said your weight leaves you, and you feel like you can do anything and everything at once, for you’re so fast nothing holds you down.

At second haste, however, in putting the Godspeed into any attack…

I learn quickly that speed is a weight all its own— and one far greater behind the point of this lance, biting and burning deep into the watery barrier, than even a human wrecking ball like me could muster with strength alone.

---

---

In one instant, the Kirins' most wayward, lost soul had been spread-eagled and strewn along the battlefield by the Tides that had surged around Leviathan, same as the rest—

And the next, his voice cut through a silence that should not have been there, a single name leaving his haggard throat.



And in his wake was the clap of thunder, no matter how clear the day overhead.

---

Galahad sputtered and cursed as the Leviathan sent him flying with a blast of water, armor crashing against the ground as he tumbled like a wet sack- a sack clad in steel, but a sack all the same. A gauntleted hand roughly ripped the helmet off of his face as Galahad hacked out seawater and pawed at his face to clear his vision. They'd barely scratched her.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Galahad cursed aloud as the Leviathan pontificated at them, his replies practically lost in the storm. "What sort of Etrosdamned trial is this?!"

Any grumbles and complaints he had were quickly lost as the Eidolon began to channel its next spell- a tidal wave that would surely kill them all. The blood drained from his face as he watched the barrier of water wrap around the Lady of Whorls, Izayoi's shockwave having seemingly little effect. They were strewn all over, there was no chance to run. They had to make their stand here, break the spell or else they'd die.

Galahad quickly scrambled to his feet, his head whirling around, looking for the others, looking for options. Some of the others were already getting up and moving on their own. Good. He saw Izayoi sheathing her blade for another one of her fearsome draws. Also good. Next to him he spotted a familiar looking instrument, a few feet away was its owner. Lunging for the instrument, Galahad grabbed it and thrust it into Ciradyl's hands.

"We need to strike hard and now. Imbue us with power." Galahad demanded as he began to sprint back into the fight. The air whipped around them as Rudolf zipped past him, erupting forward with a flaming black lance. Had they not been in a life or death situation, Galahad would've been most impressed by the form. Praise would have to be held off until later though, as his eyes tracked Rudolf's angle of attack and where his black lance's thrust would land.

Armored feet skidded to a halt next to the samurai as Galahad pointed the spear point of his halberd forward, his voice already straining as he began gather electricity into the palm of his hand. "You see where we need to strike, right? Time it with mine. 3 seconds."

With that, the armored dragoon leaped, enough electricity trailing behind him that it looked like a lightning bolt was traveling in reverse course from the ground and back into the sky where it belonged. The bolt cut a wicked, jagged path through the air, reaching its crest as Galahad flipped himself in the air.

One.

Wyrmfang flipped in Galahad's hand as he reversed his grip, holding it high above his head. A signature strike if Galahad ever had one- one meant to slay the most powerful of dragons and beasts, to sunder adamantine scale and skull alike. Enough electricity surged through the halberd to make it's shape unrecognizable, the Dragoon practically holding a bolt of primordial lightning in his hands. He reared back, his eyes narrowed in the whipping winds, his fore hand guiding his aim.

Two.

He saw it, the wake left by Rudolf's attack, the sheer speed of it all. His eyes tracking the dark lance. Galahad seemingly slowed himself in the air, catching himself as he waited with bated breath- waiting for the impact. He heard the cry of the young warrior's voice, and saw the strike land.

Three.

A herald of lightning and thunder, Galahad put the entirety of his strength into his throw, his arm whipping forward and loosing his bolt of lightning. Wyrmfang streaked through the sky, forcing it to split and make way, crashing down towards the Eidolon and its barrier. Moments later, Galahad fell toward the ground as well, residual lightning trailing behind him as he followed the wake of his own weapon, bracing himself to make impact and to drive the weapon through the barrier and deep into the blasted Leviathan's skull.

---

Éliane was rather annoyed, but her emotions were… a little mixed.

She was annoyed, because if she had made good with her threats to the Grovemasters, they wouldn’t have to be dealing with this mess –and an extended mess was what it was, stupid barbarian politics—but on the other hand, they were in yet another grand fight. Éliane wasn’t so twisted that she would be happy about any random senseless battle, though, and even worse, it was the type of battle that was depriving her of the ability to actual do battle.

Barely into the entire thing, the nasty water whore had soaked her new rotary cannon and it had yet to fire— and for the moment, it was even her only weapon that could probably only do significant damage since she lent her rifle to Esben. She still had her gunblade, but it seemed anemic in comparison to waves…

Just about fed up with the water, she began to rely on something she usually didn’t—her materia. Within moments, she whipped up a hot, dry wind around her and her gun, quickly drying it out with the heated air—

And then she finally brought the cannon to bear on the Leviathan and her barrier. She depressed the trigger, and the gun whirled to life with the heavenly sound of high caliber bullets rapidly leaving the barrel. Within moments, a fresh hail of armor piercing bullets joined her teammates’ in striking against the Leviathan.

“Challenge this, asshole!”

The girl sucked in a deep breath.

This was beyond any of their prior opponents.

This was beyond anything she had seen before.

She could feel the power rippling through the air, washing over her body like an ocean's waves. Even more than the battle at sea, it felt like she was going to be plunged down and dragged under.

For an instant, a mere instant, her heart was frozen.

For that single instant, she couldn't help but feel fear surge through her very being.

She had been picked up by chance by a deserter, and it had lead her here.

What if her destiny was not as a grand hero? What if mere chance had gotten her this far, and now it was by mere chance that she would die?

What if

what if

what if

what if

The phrase ran itself through her mind over and over again as the muscles in her legs seemed to lock in place, her grip on her spada shaking. Her heart threatened to rip its way free from her chest with its incessant hammering.

what if---

...

That was just it, wasn't it?

Her mind went hurtling backwards in time. Back to old tales.

What could he have done, then? It's so frightening.

It was something that had played out in her mind ages ago.

When a legendary hero was faced with a monstrous, insurmountable beast. A creature that exceeded all his former foes, one who could destroy him in an instant.

It was scary.

What hope was there to stop it?

And yet he stood bravely. Even if he was terrified, even if he felt like it could be the end, he still stepped forward and gave it everything he could.

Even if it was by pure chance that he survived, even if it was by nothing but the thinnest possibility that he pulled through and succeeded, he still strove for that tiny, thin margin of possibility.

That was part of being a hero, wasn't it?

"... What are you doing, Robin Fey?"

The voice she heard was her own, speaking to herself aloud over the din of battle. In the few moments she had spent locked in place from fear, her allies had already stepped forward and given their all to stop Leviathan's attack.

"They're about to leave you behind. You can't let yourself be shown up."

---That was right.

What was she doing? Locking up on the spot, freezing in place from fear alone. She could still move, couldn't she? She was still breathing.

What kind of hero let their fear overcome them like that?

Her father wasn't who she thought he was all these years.

And maybe it was by pure chance that she'd came to this place.

But that chance still existed. That chance had still let her reach this place, still given her an opportunity to change this world and do good.

And that chance was now in the form of the slim opportunity they retained to stop this attack.

Robin stepped forward.

She'd never used this technique in battle before.

Could she even pull it off?

Maybe, maybe not. But heroes performed daring acts that could just as easily fail all the time.

She raised her spada, its luminescent blade glinting not only from its brilliant edge but from the energy that now surged along it.

Leviathan's attack wouldn't succeed.

"'O blossom, flower at the edge of my sword---"

Robin stepped forward. The world blurred around her.

She was at the very edge of Leviathan's barrier, now.

The first thrust was easy. She'd performed plenty of thrusts before, after all. It was what came after that would be the most difficult part.

Her right arm blurred.

A single second, a single fraction of a second, a single infinitesimal moment---

Not one passed between the first and second blow.

The technique was one that seemed unreachable, impossible. For most of her life, she couldn't wrap her head around how someone could ever strike four times at once.

But impossibilities were a given when one was a hero, weren't they?

The third came easier. Her blade danced in her hand, surging with brilliant light. The fourth followed naturally.

She could see the miniscule gap between each thrust. It was as if the world had come to a halt, for her.

But outside, it appeared the span of time between the impact of her first blow and her last simply did not exist.

Robin had struck four times in a single instant, each blow leaving behind a trail of golden light.

"Bloom resplendently---"

She twisted her body, dragging her blade across the barrier, biting at her opponent in her final strike.

"---Flash Rose!"

The light burst.

The flower opened.

For a scant few moments it lingered, a rose of golden light.

And then it was gone.

Double-layered haste magics. Twin lances, one of shadow, and one of lightning, plunged into the barrier. Four golden, shining thrusts, all made in an instant. A relentless storm of bullets hammered away. Truly, the Kirins brought all they had in the name of survival.

And yet, it wasn't quite enough just yet. Their efforts chipped and fractured at the barrier, piercing through several layers of practically-solidified water with great effort. But not quickly enough.

That was where Izayoi came in.

"I am the storm." She intoned a mantra to center herself, aether welling around her while the others had been preparing their strikes.

"I am the squall!" Her knees bent, sword ready to draw. Shin-Zantetsuken wasn't suited for smashing through a static defense. Ranbu had very nearly killed her to use in the desert, but this wasn't nearly as taxing. Until the return through Osprey, it still would have been too much for her. But the last few weeks' worth of combat experience had served to harden her body to the point where it was entirely possible she might just execute this without suffering too many ill effects from the strain.

Izayoi surged forward, her feet practically slamming off the ground. As the Revenant had in the deserts of Osprey, she seemed to split apart into three afterimages, each splitting off and surrounding Leviathan's barrier to deliver a furious assault of slashes from three separate angles.

There were two ways to shatter a magical barrier: overwhelming force at one point or forcing the aether composing it to spread too thin to be viable by attacking from multiple different points. The rest of the Kirins were almost through with might alone. It fell to Izayoi to disperse the remainder of the barrier enough for them to succeed.

The Revenant had never managed to complete the remainder of the arte in their duel, but here, all three afterimages faded away after delivering their slashes, only for the original to reappear in midair, sword sheathed once more as she descended.

"I am the sword!" Izayoi's falling battojutsu strike slammed into the center point of the shield, and both Rudolf and Galahad found themselves smashing through, their spears piercing deep into Leviathan's scales as the Eidolon writhed in pain, forced to abandon her spellcasting.



Leviathan coiled and spun her body, hurling the two Edreni men off as she bucked, now furious as they managed to deliver critical blows.



The titanic sea serpent dipped her head below the plateau, her body quickly wrapping and looping around the entire cliff face until her tail rose where her head had been previously, and the Eidolon's cavernous maw rose above the entrance of the ruins, cutting off any path of retreat. She snapped her fangs downward at the Kirins while her tail slammed, rampaging about the cliff face and ruins as bubbles of water magic formed at random above before dropping downward to crash against any Kirin unfortunate enough to be caught in their path.

Nearly exhausted from breaking her limits as she was, Izayoi nonetheless managed to step out of the path of Leviathan's tail, scoring a thin gash along it with her retaliatory cleave, gasping for breath before drawing herself up.

"Come, then!" She bellowed back at the Eidolon, reaching the throes of battle frenzy herself as she forced her tired body into a charge towards the head. "We finish this here, primal!"