Both Mao and the Dragonborn readied themselves for the showdown, but naturally the demon had anything in mind but a fair fight. As he readied his fist his foe couched his sword in a ready position, one ambiguous enough to lead into either a slash or thrust as necessary. Given his worse condition the Dragonborn would need to end this fast, ideally in a single stroke, and if Mao could capitalize on that desperation, he could pull off phase two of his plan. Both warriors drew closer, moving with purpose if not swiftness, until they reached the invisible line in the sand. Then, as if fired from cannons, they sprang forward with their weapons of choice ready for the finishing blow.
Pumping adrenaline threw that moment into slow motion, making the crucial second last. For that moment, however, the Dragonborn’s victory looked assured. His sword, gleaming in the light of the suspended colosseum, extended forward in a deadly simple thrust, its length plus his greater reach all but guaranteeing that a lethal stab to Mao’s center of mass would connect before his fist. Unless, of course, the Overlord stopped short. Rather than carry forward Mao ground to a halt and punched the empty air. When fully extended his clenched knuckles discharged the arcane power built up within, and like a bundle of fireworks the magic hurtled across the few feet that remained between demon and human. Then the explosive detonated against the Dragonborn’s chest, and the rest was history.
But Mao wasn’t done. With time proceeding normally once more, he dove into the ensuing blast with a friend heart in hand, and as the smoke cleared it revealed a Dragonborn in perfect condition once again. Beneath his helmet the Nord was totally stunned, but without any trace of injury, fatigue, or inner turmoil, he felt oddly calm. He blinked at the little Overlord in front of him as Mao’s mechanical arms came back to life. Somehow, the lad had fully restored him. “Well, blow me down!” he exclaimed with gusto, reaching up a hand to adjust his helmet. As he did Mao could see the walrus mustache beneath. “That’s a potent magic, and no mistake! I’m remembering...everything…” His bushy eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not my enemy, after all! That blue wench was controlling me!” Sword in hand, the Dragonborn stood. “By the Divines, I’ll strike her down, or I'm not Gunnar Flagon-pile!”
While they got acquainted, Jesse took her chance to get more up close and personal with Mordecai. A cunning move on her part took him totally by surprise as she ran from the pillar, galvanizing the sniper into action. Judging by her attacks earlier it would take him more time to bring the barrel of his rifle around for a shot than it would take her to throw something at him, and his fears soon proved spot-on. Jesse yanked some material from the re-collided column behind her to fling at him, and though he evaded it easily enough, her next attacks proved a little more devious. His sharp eyes brought Jesse’s recycled projectile to his attention, but he still only moved in time to turn a debilitating leg break into a glancing blow that hurt the moment he put weight on it. In desperation he blasted off a shot in Jesse’s direction, hoping it would give her pause, but it sure didn’t stop her dropping a piece of ceiling, and this time he didn’t get off scot-free. The telekinetically-propelled piece of caging came down on his legs as he tried to roll away, and with a grunt of pain he hit the deck. “Bloodwing!”
With a shriek his bird attacked Jesse. Its talons shot for her eyes, and if not for her Health it might have gouged them right out, but instead those fearsome claws glanced off the barrier. It tried to speed away, but the impact slowed it enough that the FBC director could get off a clean shot with her Tool Gun. Only a slight imbalance in its body structure was enough to send it spiralling to the floor. Of course, any sense of victory would have to wait, as a sniper bullet then slammed into the Health around her head. Without actually damaging the Bloodwing she hadn’t topped up her barrier, putting her in a risky position. Though if he couldn’t reposition, Mordecai could still shoot her after twisting onto his side, and even if Galeem’s influence didn’t compel him to keep fighting, the attack on his beloved Bloodwing would. Another decision lay before her--should she run for cover, or take advantage of Mordecai’s injury to remove the threat for good?
At the other end of the battlefield, a very angry Midna rushed to prevent the sudden death in store for Reinhardt and Sven. Infusing her hair hand with draconic power, she dealt the future knight the biggest slap he’d ever seen. Despite his formidable size and even stronger, heavier armor, Midna managed to bodily smack him out of harm’s way. He didn’t lose his footing, but having just used his Charge he was too far away to do anything but start stomping back over. Sven, meanwhile, was low enough to the ground that he noticed the telltale purple circle expanding below him, but Midna’s Twilight Vibrava definitely sped him on his way. Ciella’s rain of arrows fell upon nothing but metal and sand, melting from lethal bolts into ordinary water a moment after they hit the ground.
Ciella threw Midna a despairing look, assuming the save to be an accidental fit of incompetence on the imp’s part. The princess’s shout, however, said otherwise, and Ciella’s disdainful annoyance turned to an incredulous anger. “Careful, little one,” she warned the imp. “I will not tolerate those who deceive themselves.” With that she flew forward, headed for the center of the arena, leaving Reinhardt and Sven both behind and far apart.
Long before Ciella reached it, the colosseum’s middle was a hotspot of activity. Joker and Fox stood along before a veritable firing squad of Vandals, with Nastasia sitting smugly right in the middle, gloating over her new conquest. As bad as Joker wanted to plug her with another snap headshot from his revolver, he knew her overshield would save her, while he and Fox stood no chance against the retaliatory fire from her goons. Now, Joker thought, would be a great time for a few random projectiles from Sectonia to throw the enemies into disarray, if not for that explosion a few moments ago that told him no help would be forthcoming. As the flare from the incendiary grenades cleared, however, revealed a Sectonia outwardly charred but still very much alive.
Shadow’s eye twitched as she boasted about it. Not in the mood for any more annoying magic or banter, he threw himself at her head in a heavy Spin Attack, only for the attack to fail to connect. “Huh?”
Down below, Sectonia blinked around Nastasia before making her move. Her blade, fast and perfectly aimed, flashed toward her head in a killer slice meant to bring the whole conflict to an end in a single stroke. It bounced harmlessly off Nastasia’s overshield, leaving just a few cracks and prompting a coolly amused look upward as the little lady adjusted her glasses. “Uh-huh, alright. Gentlemen?”
The barrels of a dozen rifles trained on Sectonia all at once, but that wasn’t all. “Forgetting someone?” Shadow teleported behind the bug and grabbed her by the neck. “Nothing personal!” He then propelled himself downward, taking Sectonia with him, and smashed her to the ground in a giant chokeslam. He flew out of the way as the Vandals opened fire. Though brutal, the aliens’ bombardment lasted only a few seconds, as Joker and Fox took advantage of the distraction to race around the fallen insect.
With a deep breath Fox called upon his Persona. "Goemon!"
Ice swept through the ranks of the Fallen, chilling them as Joker got into position in front of Sectonia. He couldn’t waste this opportunity. “It’s showtime!” He span low to the ground, launching a pressure wave that staggered his enemies, before powerfully launching into the air. Joker put a hand to his face as his mask turned to blue flame, and with a flourish his original Persona appeared. “Arsene!” The well-dressed specter unfurled his wings and spread wide his hands, a crimson power building in the center of the enemy force. “Here!”
A dome of accursed power blasted the Vandals apart, scattering them. Just Nastasia remained there, knocked down by the force. Fox sprinted toward her with his katana unsheathed, ready to make mincemeat of what remained of Nastasia’s overshield and finish her off, but his swing clanged off the giant shield of a brainwashed Braum. As the huge man swung at him Fox leaped back, hesitant, and in that moment a booming voice reached him.
“The time has come,” Ciella called from on high, addressing everyone in the arena, from Mao and the Dragonborn to Jesse and Mordecai to Midna, Reinhardt, and Sven to all those in the center. “For the stains of hypocrisy to be washed away! May those who stand by me recognize what came before and save themselves! Cryogenic Meteor!”
From her position above the center of the arena the Agito threw down a giant mass of ice, forcing those beneath her to scatter. Its impact both shook the colosseum and prompted some sort of reaction from the Feral Shroud that encased it. A wall of water frothed in a ring around the fighting area, like an omnidirectional tsunami somehow held in place. The entire floor suddenly glowed purple, with what looked like enormous arrows pointing to the left side of the arena.
“This is a classic!” Necronomicon exclaimed suddenly. “Since Futaba and I are one in the same, I’ve got all her secrets. Everyone on our side needs to get on the left side of that ice mountain, right now! Here: speed up!”
As Necronomicon cast a party-wide Masukukaja to help her allies on their way, Ciella stretched her arms wide, her eyes alight with madness, and sang out, “Floor of Despaaaaaair!”
The water on the right side of the arena surged forth, sweeping leftward in an inexorable tsunami. Barely a moment later the purple glow reappeared, with arrows pointing upward, toward where the Resistance started. Both waves wreaked havoc on everything in their path--save the iceberg planted square in its middle, and anyone hiding behind it.
Tora, Poppi, and Big Band
Level 9 Tora (50/90) Level 8 Poppi (130/80) Level 4 Big Band (8/40)
Location: Al Mamoon Northwest - Obelisk Temple
Primrose’s
@Yankee, Fox’s
@Dawnrider, Yoshitsune and Sora’s
@Rockin StringsWord Count: 1609 and 1235
As Tora sparred with Beast he kept one eye on Poppi, and what he saw helped him realize just how fortunate they’d been to run into that steely spectre in the ruins above the shady oasis. His companion drove the point of the claymore she’d received from her fusion into Dante’s back, eliciting a furious howl of pain, before the weight of her new armor carried both back down to the dungeon floor. They landed with a crash so tremendous that the brief duel between Tora and Beast came to a momentary stop, but while it was awe and apprehension that gave the dwarf pause, no such feelings stayed Tora’s shield. This demon killer was one tough customer. Even after Poppi landed such a brutal attack, her Masterpon knew better than to assume victory.
His suspicions proved well. Before the dust even cleared, the man still face-down on the ground bent his arm back with Revenant in hand, and only thanks to a quick jerk sideways from Poppi did his blind shotgun blast not eviscerate Poppi’s face. As he wrenched himself free from the ground, still impaled by the claymore, Tora could see a white power building around him. That couldn’t be good. As Beast turned back to swing at him, the Nopon hammered every button his Drill Shield had to both extend its giant bit and fire its thrusters. He blasted onto the unprepared dwarf, drilling into Beast’s chest for the split second before he deflected the bit with his hammer’s shaft, then carried forward the momentum as he cruised toward Dante and Poppi. Sensing the same thing Tora did, Poppi readied herself as well, summoning her claymore to hand in a defensive position.
Their efforts came to naught. Dante unleashed a burst of demonic energy across the dungeon, turning the area monochromatic and flooding it with white light. Try as he might, Tora could barely move. Time itself had slowed to a crawl. A look of mild alarm appeared on Poppi’s face as she realized she could not defend herself, and the next moment Dante reached her. In the haze his hair shone white and his coat red, and among the black veins on his face he wore a smug smile. “Game over.”
With that he started his assault. He swapped between weapons and firearms in a blistering, non-stop string of free damage, mitigated only by Poppi’s armor and, if it happened to get in the way, her sword. Tora grit his teeth, and even though it felt like pushing through molasses, forged onward. This guy’s sheer cockiness was staggering. First he hurled insults while not fighting seriously, and now he ignored Tora while stomping all over his precious companion while she couldn’t even fight back. He probably assumed that Tora was nothing without her. With every second that passed Dante cut and pierced deeper and deeper into Poppi’s chassis, and though she wore a brave face Tora knew all too well just how agonizing it must be. More than any enemy faced so far, this guy pissed Tora off. He was going to pay. He was going to pay!
The demon killer brought Poppi back to the floor with a Helm Breaker from Rebellion, then caused a ground bounce with a two-handed smash from Eryx. As the artificial blade popped upward, his Devil Trigger came to an end, and Dante made sure his victim got a good look at his face while he changed the fists out for the demonic axe, Arbiter. “Nighty night. Now get…” He brought the axe behind him for a killer overhead cleave. “Fu-!”
“MEH!” A sudden weight against the axeblade forced the weapon downward. That same impact bent Dante backwards at an awkward angle, like he was doing the Limbo. When he craned his neck backward, confused, he discovered Tora on top of his shield, having used his copious weight to drive it, and by extension the axe below it, into the ground, where it got stuck thanks to all the spikes on its axehead’s back. Dante snorted in derision, shaking his head. It was a valiant and clever but ultimately useless move, one that bought the Nopon only a second of time and disarmed him in the process. The demon killer opened his mouth to make sure Tora knew just how screwed he was, which made it all the bloodier when a wrench smashed into his teeth the next instant.
“Guh!” Dante roared, spraying blood as he transformed Arbiter to strike back. Keeping cool, Tora hopped from his shield to sit on his enemy’s chest. The sudden weight flattened Dante against the ground, and with a cry of righteous anger came around with a backhanded wrench smash into Dante’s jaw.
A wordless groan escaped the fallen devil killer as he went limp, head lolling sideways. As much as a part of Tora wanted to keep bludgeoning, he managed to keep himself in check. It wasn’t something a hero would do. Instead he brought up his other wing, holding a Friend Heart. He looked down at Dante and hesitated, but only just a moment. “This much better than meanypon deserve!”
Before he could bring his wing down, he felt a hand grab it. Taken by surprise, he looked in time to see Beast, but not to stop the petrification that spread across his body, turning the Nopon to stone. The dwarf then unleashed his hammer in a heavy onslaught, batting Tora around like a beach ball until Dante, floored but far from beaten, raised Kablooey to blow Tora away.
A moment later Tora rolled to a stop against the dungeon’s central pillar as the petrification wore off. Beaten up and blurry-eyed, without any clue of what just happened to him, he pushed himself onto his feet with a groan. He held up his wrench as Dante approached, but the demon killer flicked it out of his grasp with the tip of Rebellion’s blade, smirked, and drove it into his head.
“Meeh…” Tora gasped, his eyes squeezed shut, but the swordblade never got the chance to test his hearty constitution. Instead it deflected off an ether barrier, leaving Dante confused until a yell sounded out behind him, drawing both sets of eyes. Beast, who’d gone over to finish off Poppi, crashed to his knees, the laser blade of Poppi QT Pi’s Variable Sabre stabbed clean through his diaphragm.
Poppi stood beside him, her face cold and expressionless, her bright orange eyes on Dante. As he watched she removed the saber by carving out sideways, leaving the dwarf nearly bifurcated to dissolve. The form change had reconstructed her wounds, and she was in practically perfect shape. Her eyes remained on the demon killer the whole time, unblinking, as she brought the humming weapon to her side. “Dead man not lay another finger on Masterpon,” she told him, then rocketed forward in a burst of speed. With a growl Dante activated his Devil Trigger once more and hurtled toward her with a Stinger. This time, however, Poppi had already internalized his move. At just the right moment she turned upside down, then executed a backflip to extend one leg straight into his head for a dizzying kick. Their blades clashed in a storm of plasma and silver, Poppi’s sheer speed and Dante’s wounds nearly equalizing the pace of battle despite Devil Trigger.
The furious duel ended a moment later with a sweep that slid Dante backward, knocking him out of Devil Trigger, and like lightning Dante switched to Aquila and hurled both blades forward to keep Poppi occupied. He then brought out Kablooey, but scarcely did he bring the demonic grenade launcher out before Tora hit him from behind. The Nopon threw him into Dante belly-first, and as if he’d been struck by an exercise ball the demon killer bounced forward to find that Poppi had managed to deal with Aquila much faster than he expected. As her upward swing launched Dante, Tora called out, “Poppi, it time for secret protocol!”
Whatever that was, Dante wouldn’t be having it. Aquila flew back into his hands and melted across his fists, becoming Eryx. He fell like a meteor to cave in Poppi’s skull, but rather than try to capitalize with a combo Poppi evaded the strike. When Dante looked up at her he found himself staring at the Variable Saber in shotgun formation, and Poppi wasted no time pulling the trigger.
He stumbled backward, tripped over the ever-troublesome Tora, and fell hard. “Releasing final lock,” Poppi declared as she jumped upward, but as she went high Tora went low. With all his strength he swung a two-handed punch right into Dante’s nuts, paralyzing him, and a moment later Poppi plunged her weapon into Dante’s chest, even as his hand came up bearing dual pistols.
The dynamic duo knew what needed to happen. Poppi raised her arm, and after she and Tora cried out “Quantum Judgement!” she began to spin at high speed. The artificial blade became a jet-propelled, laser-bladed blender, slicing across Dante’s chest again and again, each deeper than the last. Even as demonic bullets pounded her she kept firing, until finally the saber carved into stone, and Ebony and Ivory went quiet.
Poppi slowed to a stop, her cold fury fading. As the halves of the demon killer started to dissolve she sank to the ground on her knees. When Tora waddled up and seated himself beside her, she leaned on him, and he on her. It was over. In a few seconds they would get up to help their allies, but for just a moment now, they could be still.
With Es seemingly incapacitated for now, Band turned his attention from his own little corner back toward the other fights littering the front half of the dungeon. Right away he noticed Skull and Panther also on the loose, their own fight apparently wrapped up, and by the lack of draconic bodies around the detective could intuit how that went. The others, however, were still going strong.
Once the Phantom Thieves got out of his hair, Fox alone faced down the twofold threat of Robin and Tharja. The ace pilot’s experience, both with Robin in particular and healers in general, told him that he should target the dark mage first, but he found his efforts in vain. Tharja managed to move in tandem with her partner, staying behind him and only following up when he attacked first, so by the time Fox could either try to reflect or get around her spells Robin would already be on his tail again. Fighting smarter, rather than harder, seemed to be the name of the game. Their unique approach left Fox with no other option but to take the fight to Robin, but even then Tharja’s annoying tendency to follow up his sword swings with the dark wells of her Hex kept him from being able to go toe-to-toe. Still, Fox knew that he only really needed for them to run out of mana, at which point only Robin’s sword would be left to oppose him. He jumped in once more, but rather than try to hit the speedy airborne Fox with a relatively slow-moving spell, the tactician readied his sword. From above the pilot took a shot at Tharja, and while both mages moved to avoid it Fox dove right into their midst. A flurry of strikes assailed Robin, too quick and close for him to effectively counter, try as he might. “Tharja,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now!”
The Dark Mage gave a weary nod. “Rescue!” she droned, her voice utterly without enthusiasm.
Stepped out from behind him, she flourished her stuff, creating a golden magical circle right where Fox and Robin were fighting. There came a flash of light, and a
young man with spiky hair and dark clothes appeared right in the path of Fox’s attack. Once struck, the gleaming Sora had no choice but to fight back, even though he wasn’t brainwashed. He summoned a giant key to hand and went on the offensive.
At the same time Yoshitsune fought against the Witch Doctor, although to Band’s eyes it looked more apt to say he fought her summons. The sorceress just kept pumping out minions, her supply of spider-filled jars seemingly limitless, and when their numbers weren’t enough she supplemented the arachnid threat with toads, firebats, grasping hands, and explosive zombies. Already the samurai had been bitten, blown up, barfed on, and manhandled, and even though the individual hits did little, they were starting to add up. Though he didn’t mean to, he was playing the Witch Doctor’s game, and if he didn’t get help or come up with a new strategy, Band could only see him going down under the summoner’s crawling horde.
Less bizarre was the duel between Ezio and Azwel. One fought with a multitude of summoned weapons, floating them around in quick and unpredictable patterns, but the other wielded a small arsenal of his own, and with a lot more pragmatism. Even with the sorcery on Azwel’s side Ezio could apparently keep up with sheer skill, leveraging each sword, hidden blade, smoke bomb, crossbow, and pistol at his disposal. He, too, could use a hand.
Band sighed. This kind of chaos, full of odd characters and odder powers, reminded him strongly of his time at the Anti-Skullgirl Labs. After being gone for so long, it was nice, in a way, to be fighting alongside a team of allies once again, Grimleal notwithstanding. “This sure takes me back.” Of course, he couldn’t spend much time being sentimental, or those new allies of his might not stick around. The Phantom Thieves were hanging back too, trying to figure out where they ought to insert themselves. Band waved his hat at them to get their attention. “Our furry friend needs backup. Give ‘em a hand!” As Skull and Panther nodded and ran to skew the odds in Fox’s favor, he approached the duel between Ezio and Azwel. Yoshitsune would have to hold out for now.
“AAHHAAY!” Band entered the fight with Brass Knuckles that Ezio rolled to avoid. As he dodged he loosed a bolt from his little crossbow, but when its point pierced his trench coat only to ping off the cyborg’s metal body, the assassin grimaced. Even if he could more than hold his own in conventional combat, two capable combatants was a problem, particularly a giant one with armor. Then again, Ezio could neither retreat nor give up, so unless the medieval-looking man was packing some mag in his bag of tricks, Band felt pretty confident.
“Two against one, hmm?” Azwel smirked, rubbing at one of a few new stab wounds. “I daresay some would look at us and call us dishonorable. Alas, history is written by the winners.”
Band huffed, releasing clouds of steam from his pneumatic organs. “Then let’s boogie.”
While that fight got underway, Yoshitsune continued trying to survive against the Witch Doctor’s wretched retinue. Poisoned, burned, and bleeding, he fought in vain as his strength flagged, and Daisy shooting at him didn’t help, either. In the end, however, his patience was rewarded. Heavy running footsteps behind him signalled help on the way, probably from Big Band, and just in time, too. After chugging a mana potion the Witch Doctor summoned another explosive zombie, and with fatigue setting in the samurai didn’t know if he could dodge it. As it bore down on him, an immense shape descended from Yoshitsune’s right, and in a single titanic slam the undead menace turned to paste.
When Yoshitsune sliced through a few spiders and glanced over, however, it wasn’t Band that he found. Instead another titan of a man stood before him, seven inches shorter than the detective but not much less wide. He wore a brown suit, yellow tie, and a pompadour of pale, sandy hair. Just one eye looked back at the samurai through black glasses. “Howdy there,”
Goldlewis Dickinson greeted him, hefting his coffin across his shoulder. Yoshitsune might recall him from the commission he undertook earlier in the day. “When I heard all the fuss, I reckoned I oughta come down and see for myself.” With a mighty sweep of his coffin he cleared away a whole swath of creepy crawlies, and as he set it down again it popped open. A long arm of spectral blue extended to deliver an enormous minigun into the Secretary of Defense’s waiting hands. “So this is the Resistance huh? I’ll be. Well, I’m fixin’ t’do my part.”
As
Goldlewis squeezed the trigger a fusillade of minigun bullets ripped through the crowd of spiders, toads, and bats, clearing them out in just a couple seconds. Daisy ducked back into cover to avoid the fearful weapon, but the Witch Doctor, who knew not such tools of war, took a handful of rounds. Luckily they didn’t actually seem to do much damage, but they could really wipe out the fodder. Despite his wounds, Yoshitsune had the chance now to deal some damage.
A guttural bellow of rage shook the Depths as Moreau struggled in vain against his assailants. While he reared up and flopped around in an attempt to swat Blazermate from the sky, the clearly non-functional eyeballs on his back provided a less-than-ideal picture of where she was, but when his torso emerged from his mouth for a peek Bella pelted him with a shot from her tail. If he went for her Blazermate could dive in again to annoy and distract him. He lurched around all the while, forcing Nadia to dig in her nails and clung to his tendril for dear life. For a moment there she lost her footing completely and swung around like a yowling tetherball, with only the last dregs of her already laughable upper body strength in the way of a short and disastrous flight. Through instinct she knew that she could not survive being hurled into the heaping collection of sharp edges and hard surfaces that carpeted the Depths, and that knowledge locked her little fingers in a death grasp. Yet even in such dire straits as these, she started mashing Moreau’s eyeballs again the moment she touched back down. In her peripheral vision she could see her pals on the move. Whether from hunger or excitement, a mad, giddy glee overtook her. She was doing it. It was working!
The sound of her name being called stirred Nadia from her little rampage. She looked over at the central catwalk to see Mirage. In his hand he held the blue magnet half. With a stupid grin he rattled off some line and chucked it at her. If not for her catlike reflexes the tiny thief might not have caught it, but she’d lunged and snatched it out of the air before she knew what she was doing, which also brought her to fresh ‘ground’ on Moreau’s back. As she tried to steady herself on the not-yet-squished eyeballs she stared down at the magnet for a second, then back to Mirage, her expression one of astonishment.
Was that...a pun?
How idiotic -how insanely moronic- did you have to be to see this situation and decide that
now was a good time to make a joke?
“Dude! I’m kinda busy right meow!”
The magnet in her hand began to glow, its surface dancing with thin, bright blue arcs. It started pulling on her, strong enough that she needed to devote a whole hand to restraining it. Why or how, Nadia couldn’t imagine, but for the moment she had bigger issues. “Little pest! Get offa me!” Moreau bellowed. Just as she expected the monster had gotten tired of chasing after Blazermate, and now he started up a violent shaking to get rid of the other thorn in his side. It was high time she got a move on. But how? She felt like she could barely walk, let alone jump, and if she somehow survived a fall off the fish freak’s side it would be the easiest thing in the world for Moreau to annihilate her. In panic Nadia glanced back toward Mirage, Geralt, Link, and Sakura. When she spotted the red magnet in Mirage’s hand yet another crazy idea occurred to her. Could that actually work? Experimentally she extended her own magnet toward his, and the pull intensified.
This is nuts! she thought.
But it might actually work?Just then two things happened. A shadowy phantom in the shape of Mimi appeared to start rupturing eyeballs like bubble wrap, and Geralt shouted at her about a nail. Nadia blinked, processing the request as fast as she could. “Oh yeah, I saw it just a minute ago!” As Moreau continued to shake she crawled on her hands and knees toward the mutant’s other side, where the little witcher’s metal spike still protruded, but when Moreau became aware of her movement he had an idea of his own. “There you are!” he grumbled, and after leaning one way he started to roll over.
“Crap, crap!” Nadia cried out as she felt herself moving backward faster. No matter how she willed herself to move faster, to get to her feet and run, her feeble body would not respond. She was going to get smushed. She was going to die. As she started slipping her eyes landed on Bowser as he leaped above the monster, bringing her attention in turn to the nail he hammered deeper into Moreau’s back. In the heat of the moment a flash of inspiration hit her, and with the last of her strength she thrust her magnet upward.
The next thing she knew, she was flying. The squealing kitten shot up from the jaws of death, carried by her magnet, and latched onto the nail. For a moment she clung to it, frozen, but even with the agony of the nail Moreau was still rolling. Neither she nor Bowser could stick around. Unable to pull out the nail at this point even if she wanted to, Nadia left it for Bowser to dislodge and turned her magnet on Mirage. Before she knew it she sailed through the air once more, her ears and tail flapping in the wind until she landed right in Mirage’s arms.
Of course, the sudden weight knocked him onto his rear, but both were okay. That ridiculous stunt had saved Nadia’s life. “Purr-fect.” As her chest heaved from exertion she got out a gasping chuckle. “Hahah...I can’t really move…” she rasped, looking between the children as Bella and Peach ran up. “Help a gal out?”
A disgustingly cheerful
ding rang out throughout the Depths. The elevator had arrived. Nadia stared as the doors slid open; against all odds, victory was in their grasp. As Moreau rolled back onto his belly, the kids made a break for it. Thanks in part to Sakura’s darts, everyone could see a path to the exit. But the abominable mutant knew it too. “No!” he cried. “Don’t go! Look, look! I’ve been saving this one…”
Rather than chase the fleeing children, he reared up one again, his belly swelling up. A moment later he unleashed his final hurrah. A fountain of noxious acid burst from his twisted maw, soaring as high as the dangling maze of the Depths’ fourth floor before dispersing across the entire area. A caustic deluge fell from on high. Peach popped open her parasol, but it provided only a second or two of relief before the downpour burned straight through it. A single drop left such a painful burn that Nadia knew even a few moments’ exposure would be fatal. If everyone didn’t get either into the elevator or under something, they were toast.
Albedo returned his new friend’s wave, glad that she’d been making progress in her own way. Given her energy he really hadn’t expected to be outpacing her again, but in all fairness he did have a couple tricks that together basically amounted to cheating. Rare was the platforming challenge, after all, that could take into account someone able to climb sheer walls. Confident that she needed no help, the alchemist returned his attention to his own ascent.
The task at hand was a simple one, hardly challenging, but even given the circumstance of having a precious item stolen from him, Albedo couldn’t say he disliked it. Even for someone like him, it seemed, light exertion mixed with problem solving could be enjoyable. Climb, run, jump, jump again, run, wait, jump, ride, jump, climb, jump, climb, Solar Isotoma. He rose steadily higher through the colossal windmill, surrounded by simple machines in perpetual, rhythmic motion. On the icy mountain Dragonspine that loomed over his home of Mondstadt, the winds gave voice to all manner of song as they blew past its peaks and faces. They whistled, howled, and screamed, sounding sometimes eerily like voices, or wide-ranged musical piping. Here, however, the winds meted out a different tune. Within these walls they sustained a hymn to industry, a song of clever machination that would not end so long as the winds still blew. Unless, of course, the components fell apart from neglect. Albedo kept an eye out for any signs of untrustworthy footing as he forged onward and upward, his heart beating to the turn of the pulley and gears.
About halfway up, things started getting more interesting. The machines thinned out somewhat, and less practical instruments took their place. Albedo spotted several
panels somehow suspended in the air, mostly in spaced rows across large gaps. Those flipped one way sported a blue color, while those the other way showed red. When he attempted to set a foot on one by way of experiment, it held for a brief instant before swinging to the opposite side. “Hm,” he murmured, figuring that if needed he could probably jump off one in time to avoid falling. In such a manner he could conceivably cross an entire row of them, as long as he didn’t mess up. Less scrutable, and therefore more interesting, were the more rare
green blocks. Marked on each vertical side by two slanted holes like angry eyebrows, they floated innocuously in open space. Once again Albedo gave one a try. At first it seemed like nothing happened, but a moment later -after he got both feet on- it started pushing out copies of itself, traveling through the air. He jumped back before it could take him too far, then turned to watch the
block procession turn at right angles as it went left, right, left again, and up, like a bizarre, cuboid snake. It climbed to a loft platform higher up, well out of range of his flowers, then turned to come back down to where it started. Once it returned he shrugged and stepped on. Even if things got a little less conventional, he wasn’t about to turn down a free ride.
Making use of the unusual blocks, panels, and other structural phenomena, Albedo steadily made his way to about the two-third mark.
