Roberion saw the disappearance of the Cerulean Baroness with mixed feelings. In one, she was and probably will be because of her clone, a pain to deal with; on the other hand, she was pretty powerful, so having her help would be a boon.
"I need to stop wanting someone to have my back; it always has some kind of obligation attached to it—be a slave or get a parasite in your head kind of deal", Roberion triggers again the Jubilant Choir cannon form, the shot only grazing one behemoth in the side of it's head, only stopping thousands of meters out when hitting one building. He almost couldn't see the small circle from far away. Actually, I don't even see it, being honest.
Roberion didn't stop, already charging another shot, nor did The Gentlemen. The Brutes fought the barely wounded behemoth, rifles going out, swords slashing. Even as the damage accrued, the being was hard to put down. Not seeing another way to deal with them in time before Roberion and his convoy would reach them. One of The Gentlemen sacrificed himself, using his body and pushing himself and the behemoth out of the elevated road, the two falling down soon after.
Their destiny was still far away, and the losses had only begun. Roberion shot like a madman, as if he himself had become an artillery. His weird transport was carried by half a dozen The Gentlemen like a moving platform. Now he was his makeshift battle tank.
His seeming infinite mana fuels the shots. He targeted all the behemoths he could, sometimes hitting straight on their heads, some shots missing altogether, and sometimes even hurting more of his allies than the enemy. But he didn't stop, only improving with each shot, learning how to stabilize after the recoil, and becoming one with the cannon.
Having theoretical knowledge was always good, as was dissecting each practice and conserving resources. But all of it paled when you could try it again and again, not caring anyway about damage and wasted resources. Now he could learn with each shot. How the air influences each shot. When a shot would expand, and when it only grazed when colliding with something.
His guard was slowly diminishing. Each sacrifice brings him closer to his goal. Roberion didn't fear heights, but now that he was nearer the roof than the floor of the enormous central area, what he really feared when looking down was how there were still behemoths climbing up. Worse than that was only if he looked behind. More and more behemoths are running in his direction; even with the buff given by the baroness, The Gentlemen was barely faster than the muscled beasts.
It was with sadness that Roberion understood why so many of his guardians sacrificed themselves so he could get more time. Now that only fifteen of them remained—not counting his carriers—he could finally see the end of the suspended road; just some kilometers ahead, it ended going through the roof, inside a big hole.
The hole itself didn't seem big from far away, but Roberion was sure that it was as big as the tunnel he traveled to get here. Now, how can I climb this fucking hole? Damn, if that wasn't enough, look at these fucking bastards—four behemoths blocking the road. I, for one, don't care about The Gentlemen, but talk about waste; these guys could be helpful workers if I got out of here. I think the Ceruelean Baroness wouldn't let me keep some of them, would she? Talk about a waste; imagine myself and ten of these guys; I could secure a mansion or something. Live in a mountain without a care in the world; if any bastard showed up, we would just transform them into fertilizers. I could be some sort of farmer, too.
Roberion shot again, exploding one of the heads of the nearest behemoth. Taking a look at his bizarre grotesque cannon, the eyes and mouth that opened and hummed with each shot, as if in joy, the changeling sobered up. It was not time to daydream; his life was already a nightmare.
Ten of his reamining The Gentlemen, stopped and turned around. Roberion couldn't control himself and looked with fear. He regretted it instantly. Behind him, a horde of behemoths walked like a mass of muscle, like a tumurous growth assailing this overpass.
Not fearing anything, The Gentlemen run without fear, guided by only their directive. Roberion didn't know how, but these brutes are indeed one of the best creations the Ceruelean Baroness made. Of all the fighters he saw, they fought like average ones, but their lack of fear and superb strength made them one of the things he most feared to be enemies.
That is, after the horde of behemoths tried to kill him. Roberion stopped looking behind, and with the weapon charged, he shot at another behemoth, the five guards that remained already dospatching the one he shot before.
"Not enough time—FUCK, that is just fucking great; the mana regeneration is slowing down!", Roberion took another mana potion and drank, not caring about any side effects it would result in; it was do or die.
Already recharging another shot, his mana still regenerated much faster than before, but when it looked like it was infinite, now it looked like he was taking water from a tank. It took some time for him to have his mana fully restored, even with the mana he just drank.
Roberion continued shooting, the plasma shots eating the behemoths, The Gentlemen finishing the job, three of them needing to sacrifice themselves so the changeling and his transport would be way clear.
The two surviving ones seem more preoccupied with the horde of behemoths coming behind. The brutes turned around with weapons in hand—two swords that still gleamed with the threat of at least hurting any behemoth it would slice into.
Roberion couldn't control himself, and looking behind him, he knew that he couldn't sit idle. "Hey guys, turn me around! Yes, you. I don't know what type of brainwashing the baroness did to you guys, but if you want to complete this hellish voyage, turn me around and let me shoot these assholes down."
If it was the work of the baroness or if the brutes really understood his orders, Roberion didn't know, but The Gentlemen carrying him obeyed. They showed a degree of strength and coordination that could cause envy for the common fizznaults he saw during their war against the undead. They flipped him in the air like some sort of gigantic dough that pizzaiolos prepared for making pizza—not that the changeling knew what pizza was. But Roberion didn't fear; it was time to waste plasma on the horde.
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As Jubilant Choir charged the enchantment [Hellish Plasma] as so many times before, Roberion calmed his fear and only concentrated on shooting the most behemoths he could from the horde. I need to slow them down.
Roberion shot straight at the legs of the behemoth at the center, foregoing any restraint he had on destroying part of the road. He only had one way to go; there was no going back. The concrete that made the floor and the muscled legs of the grotesque creatures exploded. The behemoths shot down and became obstacles to the ones behind, making an entire mess, and their colliding made even some behemoths fall from the elevated platform.
Sadly, the horde was too big; the time he got from such a shot was measured in seconds. Roberion didn't care and kept his plan going. Each time he felt his mana lowering, he drank another mana potion. It is too much to pray that this parasite doesn't also get addicted to mana potions?! I think they are safe, but who knows?
The changeling felt slowly that he started to elevate faster, the overpass going up directly to the hole in the roof of the massive construction. A part of him wanted to take a better look at the massive crevice, but he knew that he needed to take all the seconas he could get. Especially now that the mana was regenerating slower than he wanted.
As he slowly charged the shot, almost losing the flux of mana, he felt that the weapon was starting to get erratic. Every time he was slower or abruptly stopped feeding mana, the blue lightning became more azure, and the shots became more potent, but Roberion knew there was something wrong.
From nowhere, all around him became dark. Roberion quickly took a glance and looked with wonder. Inside the hole, there were spiral stairs. The Gentlemen climbed up without any problem, their dexterity going against their massive size. As for the behemoths, they slowly climbed up to their massive size, working against him.
However. "Obviously, this stupid weapon would stop working now. Dammit, this shit is burning me", Roberion used the trigger of the weapon, but no shot came. His mana also slowly stopped regenerating; the blessing was gone.
"WHY DON'T YOU WORK? IT'S FREAKING BURNING, RELEASE ME JUBILANT CHOIR, FUCKING RELEASE ME STUPID ABHORRENT SHIT!", Roberion focused on the enchantment responsible for the change of Jubilant Choir form. Even while concentrating, the enchantment tried to work against him. The changeling didn't stop, using mana as some sort of battering ram against the blocking of the enchantment. After losing a quarter of the mana and having his arm burned to a crisp, Roberion deatached the grotesque, woody flesh of the Jubilant Choir, shoving the weapon down in the direction of the behemoths, part of his arm going with it.
To his amazement, the weapon flew down, not trying to stick to him like it had before. The behemoths nearing caught the thing, the grotesque fleshing gluing to the faster behemoth, and the beast tried to wrestle it out of him without success.
Slowly, Roberion felt the air getting hotter and the metal body of the Jubilant Choir, which was previously the [Hellish Plasma Cannon] going brighter and more azure. "Oh fuck", without any type of instructions, The Gentlemen carrying him stopped just for a second as they used all their strength to launch him to the surface of the hole.
When they released him, Roberion could hear the tendon of the creatures rupturing, like some sort of instrument breaking their filaments. The strength they used was monstrous, and if that wasn't enough, an explosion rocked down, the hot air going up making even more pressure.
As Roberion neared the roof, his fear became another, as he was going directly to hit the gray material straight on, becoming a meat paste. "N—o wa-yyyyy", Roberion used all his strength, adrenaline pumping his veins. Suddenly, he felt weirdly cartilaginous filaments; they would look like tentacles; if they weren't so fine, with their gray coloration similar to how his skin was now, the thing looked like sheets of fine metal, envolving his body like some sort of armor.
Not asking any questions Roberion jumped his weird carriage, but not enough time before hitting the roof. "Ahhhrgh", his body would be crushed if it were before, but now his body felt powerful, and with the weird filamented armor, he had only some serious wounds, but not enough to stop him from running as soon as he hit the floor down.
"I won't die hereeee, hahahaha", Roberion started running like a madman. Soon his left vision came back, as if a miracle. Roberion ignored it and continued to laugh and run as fast as he could, the horde still a threat in his mind.
Just ahead, Roberion saw a bright gate, their runes indigo with the hint of the space line. The changeling ran right through it. He continued running, making an abrupt stop right before he could hit a weird machine and a figure just ahead. He almost lost his balance, but he reined it in.
"For all the gods sake, improving you will be harder than making The Gentlemen wear their pigpie hats", finally Roberion noticed a strange figure looking at him, the same that he almost collided with, but weirdly, he was looking down. How was she floating on the floor? Roberion got up, and his head was getting up as well.
The being looked similar to the Cerulean Baroness, but now she has a gold skin color, and her features are elfic, similar but more regal than the elf he saw in the trial before. Her clothes were still regal, but more daring, and weirdly her body was more toned and muscular.
"Did you like it? According to my data, that would be an avatar that would be to your liking, and especially more to mine. Actually, I only put in more muscles and a more daring outfit for you, you really don't have many standards."
"What?", Roberion's confusion was clear on his face. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and the figure was still there, looking at him, which was a little haunting.
The woman looked at him with an amused smile and said, "Where are my manners?! You could call me Scáthach. No, that would be a bad name; a beautiful one would be from one of the ancient gods the Empire venerated. But I won't; the Empire of Creation isn't my slave anymore", suddenly she grinned, "Ah yes, you can call me Minerva; I remember how the Emperor hated their syncretized version. Yes, for you, it's Trainer Minerva; master would be better, but we both know the slavery connotation it carries. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Anyway, take that box right to your left and jump in the machine; you have thirty seconds before all this place explodes", she finishes, giving a small smile.
"Wha—" Roberion got shocked; all his questions died in his mouth. He crazily looked to his right, where a simple cardboard box was, and took it on his arms. The changeling ran to the machine, its open door inviting.
Entering it, the door closed, and all the while the Cerulean—Minerva—looked at him, like some ghost that he was cursed to see for all his life; even closing his eyes wouldn't provide escape.
"You shouldn't believe in people so easily; you are lucky that I only have the best intentions in mind. As for—", Roberion screamed, interrupting the AI, a scream of anguish with a mix of angriness.
"What did I do to deserve this? For all the stupid gods sake, if I don't believe no one, I will be a—", before he could finish, he vanished, the teleporter activating. At the gate, he just passed a while ago, a horde of behemoths punched with all his might, the magic shielding stopping them and making all their strength worthless.
A few seconds later, their fruitless attempts stopped, as a bright energy enveloped them and everything around them, extremely bright and erasing. Soon, the atomic self-detonation reached all around the research station, letting nothing survive. It even damaged the gray material of the temple.
Looking from space, both the cultists and the emperor forces looked down from their spaceships, where a giant ball of light was made, extremely small compared to the planet's size but so full of power.