As a cloud rolled over the airship deck, Corvayne was moving forward, using [Flows-Like-Water] to attack while turning liquid, trailing droplet shaped ships as he plowed through a barrage of quantum bullets in wave form. It hurt far less than it would have if he had been solid.
The titanic woman in a bridal dress followed up with a barrage of strings, each black essence thread nearly invisible but able to deliver near-instant death should he be caught. The sect leader had thousands of levels and just barely escaped a single moment with his life.
It was using them as whips, buying time to reload the revolvers she had emptied. Corvayne's own bullet shaped minions launched twin water lasers while he fired off his swarm gauntlet. If he had all day to whittle her down he was pretty sure he could kill her this way. The problem was she was faster than him, already charging forward while covered in strings. If Corvayne didn't see them he might have thought the lethal charge clumsy.
He sidestepped, using the sword as a blade rather than it's optimal use as a two handed aircraft carrier. His own essence filled the attack and severed more black strings, the essence threads turning into brown sludge that fell out of the air leaving a foul smell.
The swarm gauntlet bees turned ships harried her, but she was moving towards Bayou and Little Wing and Preshe. Corvayne had no hope of getting over there, but Preshe stepped forward and slammed her huge shield down, knocking the titanic woman back and repelling the strings as a barrier formed.
The bride didn't slow, crashing into the blue film and slamming it over and over until Corvayne got behind her and used [Cross Skill: Backbiter] on her, summoning jawed ships that drilled through the woman's back.
Corvayne didn't even see her fist move as he went flying. He was shocked to not be dead. He rolled across the deck and had to use Gravity to clamp a hand to the railing to not be flung overboard. He grabbed himself and started to pull himself up. The woman was charging for him, lines reaching, so he let go and let his shadow hands work with gravity to climb under the ship. Wind whipping him he didn't so much as blink, his eyes watering as he scrambled back up. As long as the monster was near Preshe and he wasn't, her life was at risk.
He pulled himself back up to see the twin dogs trying to wrestle her down. A stray string clipped one and it's leg turned gray, causing it to stumble and roll with a whine. Fred latched numerous mouths on the woman but only tore away a thin layer of essence, then was hit in the gut by a string that caused the dog-like monster to start to wither. Corvayne used [Cross Skill: Whirling Axe] to save the bio-weapons life by severing the string before it's essence could reach Bombshell.
He felt there was something about his view of her essence, the way it was bulging and misshapen, something he could do, but as she charged nearly instantly he was back on the defensive, taking a physical hit that nearly broke his neck while dodging a string. This time her arm caught his boot, so he stored it and slipped out before landing and tossing out a suppression array. The giant chunk of prison floor caused the strings to sag for a moment, so Corvayne threw as many prison neck-rings as he could at her, applying [Cross-Skill: Expert Throw] and wasting twenty to land two that latched onto one of her arms and another leg.
She didn't bother breaking the array, just shuffled out of it then attacked only a fraction slower. Corvayne used [Cross-Skill: Flow-Like-Water] then had to burn an ungodly amount of stamina to [Cross-Skill: Shadow Step] immediately after as Bombshell fanned the hammer on her quantum pistols. He still took a serious hit to his arm, the effect carving flesh out and making his gauntlet hand totally useless.
The only silver lining was that Little Wing had managed to land a slash on one pistol, breaking it and halving the woman's ability to turn them all into swiss cheese. She of course turned and fired one bullet into the shield, shattering it.
Bayou's bunny saved them, spitting a lougie that cleaved through the strings and landed on Bombshell's face. It clearly had the consistency of chewed gum as the woman started snarling to try and claw it off. Corvayne threw down another array, huffing and fishing a healing potion out. He wished he had another potential potion... he could feel his ribs were cracked from getting hit. Before he was finished Bombshell moved again, hitting him with a string he severed before smashing the potion he was drinking into his face with a punch.
Pain flourished as he hit a wall, blind and hearing whipping wind before horror bloomed as he realized he was in freefall. He summoned a flying sword and started pushing glass out of his face, switching back to [[Vitality]] to try to get his vision back as he used [[Unity]] to navigate. Something clobbered Bayou, then Little Wing. They were losing, and he couldn't make space to help Preshe disengage or to try to act on what he saw. His head was dizzy too, and he wasn't sure which way was up as Preshe took a hit that dimmed her light a little.
It was one thing to face death, his soul ripped from his body. But the thought of that thing touching her sent him into a fury, pulling on something he had not felt since... well... since Wick.
He took a single breath to focus, but not to banish the feelings he had. A spear moves forward. A spear moving forward, is lethal.
He put the greatsword onto his back as he flew upwards. It wasn't helping him win this fight. He drew his spear and aimed for his enemy, one that had cornered his friends... his family.
He felt the tip of his spear heating up and he poured his anger into it, the ship's bottom flying at him as he drove his spear as a white hot lance before him, parting metal like a balloon popping, shattering layers of airship with no more resistance than a matchstick, everything in him burning to stop Bombshell.
He was a spear, and he moved forward through the ship and out from under the woman battering Preshe's shield.
The burning tip was wrapped in essence as Bombshell shed another of her thousands of layers, but Corvayne wasn't done. He kept going forward, the white hot tip growing heavy as it started to draw air into it, hardening and punching through a second and third layer of essence before all the rage he had poured into it, all other feelings that he had stored or discarded or had been denied from him because of what was taken... it was like slow motion.
He saw his spear tip start to shine. He saw chunks of deck and molten metal from the walls he had punched through, spreading like a halo around him. He saw Bombshell's legs and her chin, just the hint of her looking down where he was erupting from the deck, expression changing from cruel satisfaction in tormenting someone to surprise. The black sky, broken up by silver clouds and broken again by those strings, all trying to converge on him.
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The brilliant point of light at the end of his spear, draining the heat that had made the crystal glow a pinkish white, the weight focused on the tip before he pushed it, further, more forward then his own crazy velocity.
Corvayne used [Starbreaker], thrusting a spear made of plasma into Bombshell, birthing then detonating a star in her gut as the tip snaked through layers of essence and blood soaked linen to deliver a searing sun into her.
A moment later there was light, then he was rolling across the deck and a hideous shriek rang out, the bride now trying desperately to put out fires consuming her. The noise of everything, a cacaphony of protesting metal and debris hitting the propellers and roaring detonation of his weapon skill, it washed over him as he got back onto his feet and ran to where Preshe and Little Wing and Bayou were, still alive if not battered.
Preshe looked up, a horn broken, her blue skin purple with untold damage, her armor pockmarked by bullets hitting her, shield nothing more then scrap.
She hugged him, but he gently tapped her and pointed to where a burning figure shed dozens of layers of essence, the black cocoons trailing fire.
Corvayne's own voice sounded dry to his ears. “She isn't dead yet.” He said, as much for himself as for her.
Bombshell at first looked like she was sobbing as she emerged from the charred remains of her dress, but instead she was laughing, naked, covered in soot. Her fingers elongated, and a moment later she attacked again, too fast for Corvayne to do anything but block. A moment later, she punched her fingers straight through him, ripping vicera out as she kicked him off her hand. Corvayne forced himself to stand, even as the pain caused his vision to turn red.
She charged him again, laughing, and he dropped a suppression field again, then used his spear like a great cape thrown out, using [Cross-Skill: Gargoyle's Wing] for the first time to knock her off the ship. But only for a moment, as he could hear something tinking on the metal coming right back up. He aimed at the part of the ship she was coming up on and used [Cross-Skill: Dig] with his greatsword, little ships cutting out the chunk of ship she was connected to like diseased flesh.
Instead of falling, Bombshell launched herself from the chunk of metal and just clawed her way up, strands going on offence as they appeared above the hole he had cut and snaked at him. He parried and dodged, trying to move his arm again so he could fire off some wasps with a cross-skill, he wasn't sure witch. He managed to clench his fist and use [Cross-Skill: Gargoyle's Wing] again, ships like little stone birds flying in formation over the edge. He was stumbling, and he felt the connection with his enemy moving away, perhaps finally getting her to at least hit the ground and have to find a way up.
The airship, of course, chose that moment to start to tilt dangerously, metal screeching and buckling clearly audible. He moved to go to where Bayou, Little Wing, Fred, Betty, the rabbit, and Preshe were wedged between the deck, now tilted a full 45 degrees, and one of the coverings for a stairway. He jostled Little Wing awake with a mend. Preshe was busy trying to fix her own problems, namely what looked like a place her armor had crumpled into her.
“Little Wing, do you have your sword? Flying Sword.”
He shook his head. “The prince stole it.”
Corvayne sighed. He was tired, but he pulled his own sword out and handed it to Little Wing. “You cover the pets and Bayou, I'll get Preshe down.” He looked over at her, in pain, struggling. It was the first time since leaving the village that he had felt, deep down, that he was a fuck-up. It wasn't how they would put it, but in the chaos of everything, he had chosen to try to get power rather than just rescuing everyone.
“I'm sorry Preshe. I was supposed to keep you safe, and... “
She hugged him. He hugged her back and kept going. “I'm not a good example. This isn't... this isn't our fight. I should have walked away from this. I put my need to know... my past over everyone else's safety.”
Preshe squeezed him harder, and they both winced. She looked at him. “I don't blame you. I'm only alive because you can't look away from someone who needs help.”
It made him feel a little better. “Piggy back ride?”
She hopped up on his back after his shadow hands took his greatsword. Spear in hand, he stepped onto his flying sword and followed Little Wing to the ground.
“Is she going to come after us?” She asked. “And, what's going to happen to the sect now?”
Corvayne took a deep breath, focused on rotating energy through the sword while trying to track where the bride had went. In shedding layers she had also somehow taken most of his [[Unity]] hooks out of her. She wasn't getting closer. His compass said she was maybe tracking the airship. Or she was going to pick up a fresh set of gear and blow all their brains out. He was stumped as to why she didn't just do to them what she did to Rio. It was likely she wanted something that she needed to extract from them alive. He shuddered.
“Corvayne?”
“Sorry hon. Plan B is to lose her via rapid floor shifts and set up a trap on another floor we have more control over. We would help Mosh copy the arrays I was using to slow her down and create a kill zone for me and Gylwin. Maybe get her out in the open somewhere with enough room overhead she can't deal with Diamonds blasting her from orbit.”
He reached the ground before landing roughly, most of his energy spent. They were not far from the truck, but it was flat scrub land. He pushed [[Growth]] into [[Vitality]], hoping to spark faster recovery. If they couldn't get on a sword and Bombshell was tracking them, they were dead meat.
“Plan A?”
He paused as he felt a hint of corrupted essence. The tireless bride was moving in their direction.
“I think that's right out. I feel her coming for us. Take the sword, get to the truck.”
He was doing math. Could he force a black crystal detonation and kill himself before she ate his soul? Would that even stop her from scavenging his essence?
He didn't know if he was facing his final and total death here, but it didn't change much from getting killed at the airport all that time ago. He decided to go down fighting to buy his family time.
“I'm staying.” Preshe said. Corvayne handed her the flying sword as a weapon. He took a few deep breaths.
“She's some ungodly high level. But it doesn't feel solid.”
Preshe nodded. “There's something wrong with her.”
“Do you have that big needle I gave you?” Corvayne asked. There were a few moonbeams shooting at something in the desert, but they either missed or just didn't stop Bombshell.
“Yes. Corvayne, is it okay if I call you dad?”
He turned and looked her in the eye, and smiled. How would a cowboy respond? “Course you can kid.”
He took his hat off and gave it to her, then looked back at the dust cloud. “We got one shot, because if we miss or don't kill her, there's no way to fight her.”
He felt she was scared but also determined. A little angry... that she had hurt him? If he was going to die... it was kind of fitting to do it in the desert. Or better yet, on floor 3 surrounded by loved ones in his cabin.
“I'm going to try to use [[Unity]] to get you to use [Cross-Skill: Shadow Stealer] with that needle, and I want you to try to hook whatever's keeping her together, like you were crafting essence or doing what you practiced on monsters. I'm going to buy you a half second tops to do it before she tramples me. Even if I die, you gotta hit her with it and try to rip her apart.”
He took the Hive Greatsword and charged up [Cross-Skill: Shield Bash], then threw it before concentrating on the feeling of pinning something that wasn't even physical, and ripping away shadows.
Peshe took the needle like a javalin, and as Bombshell came barreling in, little ships only slowing her with concussive force, Preshe launched the needle with a string of essence, and it flew true at Bombshell's heart as well as if Corvayne had launched it... but Bombshell moved just enough for it to glance on the horrible green and black bundles that squirmed in her essence, and in a moment Corvayne could see a claw coming for him...
Lady Blood Claw uncloaked and pivoted, her burning sword lighting up the desert as she used it like a giant flyswatter to drive Bombshell into the ground.
She turned back, skin shifting to golden triumph without a hint of pain marring her. She smiled at him, and Corvayne saw a rose blossom in her silver hair before she put her game face on and turned back to the monster reforming.
“Enough slacking off Corvayne. We got a fight to win.”