Crimson drops float in the air as a collected shower, carried by the horizontal current of force that tore the space within the sky. Those drops sprinkle from the open tube of the exposed neck, the deep red visible in its grotesque nature, only the exterior properly encased in a thin golden shell. Dangling behind the neck is a sheet of black cloth that has a silk-like texture from afar but upon closer inspection there is a meticulous texture reminiscent of chainmail, simply done at a scale such that the spaces in between would perhaps be too tight for even air to navigate through. That cloth however doesn’t extend very far down, as there’s a clear cut through, however it’s done with such precision that the chainmail at the edge is not broken but instead fully intact, only lacking a contact.
That cloth lifts up like a curtain, revealing that behind the red shower is the open view of the white mountaintop before the darkening gray skies, the storm approaching. The supersun sits visibly in the distance, however not fully exposed, as parts of the body are veiled behind the clouds that slowly devour it, the remainder streaking through in the little power it can.
However, behind the drops and hood stands the titanic golden train crashed into the floor, partially penetrated by gargantuan black roots which also towers over the large company standing right beside it. The crowd’s size is vast enough that despite being well spread apart, only a minor fraction can be seen facing head on, but in front of them stands three better visible figures. In front of them though are another three, the leftmost of which the furthest back facing the spray, being Ekitai, is dressed in his brown overcoat.
Ahead of him, given he’s closer to the three in the back, are the remaining two who gaze at the view before them, with Kokei on the right, dressed in her white hoodie.
The final member standing to her left steeled in her golden metal armor bears witness, that being Dana, whose body is positioned directly behind the dense blotches of red rain. For the three allies watch the sight from afar, for their bittersweet rest has been punctuated.
Kokei’s pink eyes are wide open with her jaw dropped, shaken in horror from the devastating view of the strong leader in front of her.
Ekitai’s yellow eyes are also wide with his mouth open, petrified from the sudden sight of his teammate bloodied before him.
Dana’s eyeless gaze is alert, the gentle rims on the plate reflecting the light at a slight warp though not at the center, staggered from the unexpected image of the great hero soaring ahead of her.
On her metal face, the reflection mirrors the watch, carefully tracking the massacred body.
Ahead in that reflection, the severed head in the white mask completes its rotation, the black parallelogram lenses aimlessly facing forward. Defeated so swiftly, so seamlessly, leaving just a mere fragment behind. However, those black lenses suddenly flare into an intense, blazing glare, flashing for a moment as a blue fire bursts from his bleeding neck. The flames race chaotically, wildly down before expanding into a wider torso where two streams split at the ends to form arms while at the bottom two others diverge for legs.
The flames at first merely resemble the shape of a body, but within the fraction of a second they harden and shrink into a refined form that of a humanoid as another wave of flames rise up from the surface to just slightly smoothen the shoulders and knees as well as extend the black cloth into a wider cape. That second wave hardens before it all materializes in unison, weaving the azure fibers and forging the golden pauldrons, the frosty crystals attached to the shoulders brightening with their own luminescence as beneath them awakens the glowing pencil insignia which stretches streaks that crawl over the body.
As the black and white fingertips come to form along with the boots with crystal tips, the whole figure reanimates just before the end of the flip, landing miraculously back on his feet though with a slight backward slide, his cape lifting in the air as physics now applies.
Despite the rather tremendous feat of rebuilding the body within the short seconds before losing consciousness, the man’s solid posture quickly shuffles as he pats his own chest before down to his abdomen, needing to confirm to himself the physicality of his own body along with a short glance that proves panic.
Relief does reach the three allies behind though, Ekitai releasing a sigh as Kokei stumbles back in disbelief, though Dana simply gives a nudge with her head, perhaps the only of the three to have witnessed the extent of meticulous creation, however even then it’s clear she wasn’t confident from the start as it takes a moment to reclaim her composure.
However, Meditat at the front does not reclaim his composure regardless of having been the one to perform the act. Instead, his focus solely relies ahead on the threat still present, that being the being clad in stone who hadn’t even moved a limb yet decimated all of his along with nearly the entire body. Furthermore, as Meditat takes a step back to seek stability, he acknowledges that total termination could’ve easily happened to him, for he hadn’t even made an effort of dodging the effect, the only tool it seemed he had was sheer luck.
That luck doesn’t instill lasting phlegm though, not when he wasn’t even sure what had affected him or if he could identify it if shot again. All he knew was this single fact: that being was most definitely a threat, and perhaps the most dangerous faced yet.
That being just stares forward without eyes, the only view in those sockets being the black void behind them, the only life being those racing caustics under the rock shell. It maintains the same pose, just staring with a downward tilt of the head, almost in a judgemental stance. There’s an utter lack of reaction to the quick recovery of a strike that would’ve been fatal to nearly anyone else, as if that recovery wasn’t at all surprising, but rather anticipated. Or at the very least, there was little that could impress, for there were no emotions in those hollow sockets.
In fact if anything, it seems that move has detracted focus away as the being finally makes a single movement with the body, that being the simple raising of the head with a slight right tilt, the black void captured in the shape of the body capable of movement as the stone plating remains in place, even that simple gesture emitting a gentle deep hum as if the slightest act exuded energy hardly able to stay contained. The armor does appear tightly attached to the hollow body even if there isn’t a visibly solid layer, as the facial plating does not shuffle, instead moving as a single unit with the three horns all remaining aligned. Though as the entity faces away from the initial target, at first in a move that appears born out of disinterest, dread brews as do the caustics in the sockets, all crowding behind the eyes in a subtle off putting effect like charging.
That dread strikes Meditat early, leaving only the time to react with the backward wave of his hand which blasts a huge wave of flames behind him which materialize into a long metal wall stretching from the train to the very other end of the mountain’s cliff, a wall that just upon creation becomes riddled with huge gaps that just appear in black flashes, or rather the entire wall is remodeled into a fence in that there are only slim poles of metal remaining, the space between as wide as the potential victims behind. There isn’t even debris from the strikes, no dust to rain down from the edges, for it’s as if the gaps were always imbued in the walls, or rather those entire portions were absolutely deleted, leaving apertures which the team and crew stand behind in horrified disbelief.
Particles of the pure white snow are picked off the ground, tossed back same as the long black cape from a gust unsure to be from the natural high breeze or an extraterrestrial force, but the stunned reaction from Meditat who just subtly glances with a slight tilt of the head tells that there’s little to this that can be deemed as ‘natural.’
Fear spiked in realizing he wasn’t the only target, marking many who may not have such quick recovery abilities in lethal danger, many who may not stand for longer if more assaults are hurdled without a counter. Acknowledging this, four flames sprout from the golden pauldrons, two per shoulder, each of them forming their own spherical black drones all of which concurrently barrage blue energy bolts at the single target, where they don’t ricochet off the stone armor or even seem to get absorbed as there’s no impact sound nor visual, rather the tips of the bolts vanish upon near immediate contact with the body, resulting in abrupt silences from each bolt. The entity just stands in place, not moving its body as it receives the bombardment, not a single marking left on the armor as none of the projectiles seem to even reach it. In fact as it just stands against the hail, its one reaction is a black flash flickering forth from the body.
This time in anticipation, Meditat had thrown his arms back to ignite an array of flaming bursts, each of which constructed a tall silver tower about three stories high, the base body smooth though each has several glowing blue rings which rotate to then project a segment of a large energy wall which covers the same area though higher, using not a physical metal but instead a plasmic solution with a scaly texture, thus theoretically more resilient.
However just as the wall is projected, multiple tears are made through it as if made of paper instead, a couple of those tears made right in front of the towers which abruptly crumble to the ground like rocks, causing the wall to flicker given the depression of enforcement.
Finding energy barriers just as if not seemingly more ineffective than physical walls, for it appears any attempt at a defense prolonged by more than a second would inevitably fail, Meditat comes to the determination that despite the utter failure of that first lunge, he couldn’t just refrain from direct engagement. Even if his survival instincts hold him back, in fact begging him to make a dash the other way as his initial confidence was heavily waning, his greater instinct commands him forward. He tightens his fist after his decision, bending his knees just like before, and again he launches himself off the ground with a propulsion as Dana instinctively stumbles forward in realization of her friend’s dangerous choice.
However as Meditat flings himself higher in the air, he releases another flame to form a physical wall, though this time instead of simply building a straight barrier behind him he instead forms a large ring that begins behind him but surrounds the entity on the ground, wrapping to the very edge of the cliff, again isolating all others on the mountain. The ring wall, about the height of the shield generator towers, materialize with a familiar metallic stone brick pattern like the tower given to Ekitai in the earlier battle, and similarly this construct has its own artillery albeit already revealed and far more pronounced as along the roof are several large turrets hovering over a ballpoint base, the cannons larger than the creator, each equipped with one large barrel which is already aimed to perfectly unleash a great blue bombardment down into the very center where stands the entity. The entire construct resembles a castle or at least a portion of it, a stronghold whose greatest power comes from its defensive artillery.
Upon first contact, a cloud of snow particles rises like smoke to completely enshroud the body, making the distinction of a result difficult to compose. However, the caliber of these energy shots were already rather high especially for a single exposed target, as a crater begins to form in the puddle of rocks from the sheer force of the blasts which aren’t exactly cutting into the ground but rather their repulsive force is enough to warp the earth. Not wanting to backtread when he’s already committed either, Meditat follows up with a dash for the dusty center, raising his arm back as flames from his hands begin to forge a spear, though before it’s materialization he spots within the white cloud a black flash.
A sideways dash is made just in time, grazing Meditat’s golden shoulder which actually carves out a small chunk of both the armor and the body given the red interior, a painful hit for sure though vastly better than what could’ve been as an entire turret is simply plucked out of existence, along with a top chunk of the metal wall which leaves behind a circular crater.
Even after that shot, Meditat chooses not to retreat but rather dial back in, dashing up as he aims his arm straight for the sky, firing a flame up to the clouds well past the ring of towers. Eventually that flame stops ascending, instead expanding in all directions outwards which depresses into a dome, one that looms over the tower but doesn’t close it, leaving air to pass inside the enclosure. The dome materializes with a silver body, the rim illuminated blue as it sustains a stable levitation as the entire face of the dome is lined with a dense array of devices resembling various cannons, with the largest in the center facing down. Surrounding that central cannon is a ring with a long vent facing down, one that then flashes blue before projecting a long energy cylinder functioning as a wall, but this one designed to contain the beast specifically. Meditat tracks these motions as his gaze remains on the barrage in the center, managing the neutralization process in the air as his cape waves in the winds.
That management complicates though as that entire snow cloud in the center is suddenly dispelled in a black flash, momentarily revealing the form of the stone entity just before more flashes follow, though these ones projecting in all directions chaotically, removing chunks of the castle wall along with the cannons mounted over it, forcing Meditat to begin dashing hastily to avoid the nearly unregistrable flashes. A flash beams up which oddly shuts down the energy enclosure before it even hits the ground, but just as Meditat glances up to check why, he’s greeted to the sight of that whole dome machine riddled with holes before it then begins to descend, crashing into the edge of the tower ring with a great explosion though Meditat’s focus returns to the outward flash bombing as he continues evading it.
Standing not far from the action, both Kokei and Dana watch alongside each other as Ekitai slowly ambles his way beside them, the three watching between the shield towers, through the crumbled barrier, as the huge ring of towers slowly collapses from what can only be perceived as directionless black flickers, ones that emit just before random chunks of the towers suddenly vanish, no explosion or bursts of clouds following like a typical blast.
They just watch, unsure of how to engage, if they even can, as they’re treated to this unholy firework show that Kokei takes a step back from in visible apprehension.
While the only of the three to have their faces concealed, Dana puffs her chest and raises her head as a clear sign of anticipation, wanting to join in the action after seeing the struggles her friend is bearing alone. She is perhaps the only one wishing to join in, as the three pirate leaders watch back from afar, their faces telling of their concern as Rezzo remains standing in front of the king’s corpse, protectively so.
Further behind them, the mass of pirates, the grand army who could likely drive through most other factions with relative ease given their great numbers of Exhumans and engineers, all stand a safe distance with none of them choosing to make the bold decision of rushing in, for even they felt the suddenly elevated scales of this new battle.
Moving in dashes so quick all that can be perceived is the bright blur of his propulsion, Meditat weaves between invisible attacks, eventually giving up his enclosure as he dashes backwards in an aerial dolphin dive through a breach in the wall, passing out of the castle walls just before that breach is rained in on by the hail of metal stones which lost their foundation.
At last the black flickers stop, but that’s only after the last of the standing tower bursts, dropping all that stood over it, leaving the entire ring to plummet into debris that left no semblance of its earlier shape.
In fact, the only entity left standing within the perimeter stands in the very center, as the cloud of snow and dust finally disperse to expose the Fallen, the legs straight as all the rocks including the one under its foot has been decimated to nothing more than the dust that is now being moved with the wind. The Fallen simply raises its head up to Meditat, not one visible marking on the body even after all the attacks, for all around it laid destruction except for itself. Again, it just stalks the man in the azure suit, observing, showing no stress, for even interest is hard to gauge when there’s nothing behind the mask.
Staring back in discontent to his grand attack’s absolute ineffectiveness, Meditat groans before deciding to revert to a more intimate approach, one where he could hopefully better connect his strikes, for it wasn’t clear if any of them had even landed. High up in the air, completely exposed in fact, he throws his left arm forward and projects a blue cable from his hand, one aimed straight for the entity’s stone breast, aimed for a perfect anchor point. Yet just as it’s about to make contact, the anchor doesn’t attach, for the tip of the blue cable simply suspends just about an inch off the body as if there’s an invisible barrier. The tip of that blue cable though is not actually blue, as it first flickers before oddly darkening to a near black before the whole cable starts to flicker in a loss of stability.
Recognizing the inability to use the body directly for an anchor point, Meditat dashes to the side before then boosting himself like a rocket for the center, emitting two flames forward which each form a spherical drone, though their purposes are simpler than most applications as he simply uses them as anchor points to slingshot himself, gaining greater speed as he now uses his own body as the projectile. Roaring desperately, he pulls his arm back as his frosty knuckles flare bright, and after a barrel roll just to throw his opponent off, he throws his fist forward, landing a punch in the chest before his own body lands on the ground behind the Fallen who just slightly staggers backwards with a quiet deep grunt–echoing in an extraterrestrial tone inhuman but not synthetic either– as the landing brews snow up in the air for just a moment, temporarily enveloping the one who just landed his first strike, having felt the impact for himself.
His white mask still visible above the dust, Meditat’s gaze remains forward, past his target, caught in followthrough for just an extra moment upon the processing of his own action. For it was an action that he almost felt wouldn’t be possible after all the heavy fire he laid down. If anything it was strange that after rapid energy bombardments both from the drones but even those large cannons, the only attack that had an effect was a single punch, a shot in the dark that wasn’t fully expected to work. Then again it wasn’t unheard of for opponents to wear armor resistant specifically to energy but not as resilient against physicality, in fact many of the perceived best armors used even by the military of the EGA were incredible against most energy attacks while being lightweight, but to strike that perfection required the sacrifice of protection against physical damage. In fact, even his former duplicate used a shield that had similar tradeoffs, completely free of weight or even appearance while able to tank most energy shots, but blunt weaponry was capable of pushing him back. Able to connect these dots of former experiences, it seems at last this threat isn’t as alien, and that similarity allows for the increasing tangibility of victory. Even if the choices of non-lethal engagement were lowered now that reliance on neutralizing energy wouldn’t be as dependable, the fact there were options at all brought much needed optimism as the dust around him began to clear.
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On the other side of the towers and broken wall, beyond the debris that leaves behind a ring of rubble, Dana had watched that first land, leaving her frozen in astonishment beside the two other allies, a brief moment of victory surfacing again.
Shock covers Kokei’s face as she’s still seemingly disoriented by this new encounter, though Ekitai emits a relieved sigh in knowing his ally was at least facing a combatant he could hit, alleviating the dire environment.
At first amazed by the successful strike, Dana oddly begins to start leaning forward with apprehensive curiosity, though upon acquiring a keener look there follows a disturbed reaction in the form of a backward stumble, apparently horrified at a sight that should’ve instilled hope within her.
As the white smoke clears away from the scene of impact, the followthrough completed to let Meditat prepare for his continuing physical assault, seemingly drained from that hit though for he groans in an unknown pain but attempts to push past it as he begins to raise his right hand to prime his grip only to find just his upper arm lifted, for the tip of his limb was not fingers but rather the elbow cleanly cut, letting bright red blood crawl down his shiny golden pauldron.
All the sudden, a sharp jolt of pain crawls up his upper arm and encroaches his body, triggering an agonized shout that’s quickly muffled under gritted teeth, as if his entire body was being lit in flames from the inside, the heat consuming him. While the amputation alone is painful, there’s something to it, a residue left from the rusted blade that cut him, like poison entering the bloodstream. Groaning behind teeth, he battles against the pain to turn around, finding the Fallen standing right behind, facing him with a casual upward stance, arms and legs to the side with no aggression in the posture. He instead just stares down at Meditat judgingly, watching him as though he was little more than a kid who tried punching a tree with improper form, hurting his wrist as a result. That judgemental watch however is what fuels Meditat for a recovery, pushing aside the agony to raise his left arm which releases a blue flame that swirls together to form a long baton-like weapon, or rather something better resembling a black baseball bat in that the pole widens towards the head for greater surface area. He swings the metal bat, though it’s not merely a shell as there’s a glowing blue strip along the barrel which propels forward additional energy for added force, the energy being used to empower the physical weapon rather than rely on energy itself. That bat is swung towards the broad chest, but right as the tip nearly grazes the stone plate, it suddenly vanishes in thin air, same as the rest of the barrel midswing as it seems the bat’s metal simply disappears upon close proximity, trimming the weapon down to just its handle with no visible damage made or staggering reaction triggered.
Utterly perplexed at the contradictory results he had expertly calculated to anticipate, Meditat huffs under his breath, the followthrough of the swing concluding that failure of an attack. Erasing that handle from his left hand, again exposed right in front of the enemy whose attacks still have an unreliable rate, desperation floods through Meditat as he shuts that left hand into a fist and throws it for an uppercut to the abdomen, his knuckles flaring upon contact, contact which brushes the Fallen back ever so slightly, releasing another soft grunt, sounds that weren’t words but adequately communicated vulnerability.
Above all else though, there was that physical reaction, that confirmation of success. Perhaps the reason for such was no longer perfect given that his theory on a simple weakness to physicality was immediately debunked, but that didn’t entirely matter in this very instant, as even without understanding why, he did have one reliable attack even if perhaps the most primitive.
That move wasn’t exactly perfect though after observing the followthrough, for along Meditat’s extended left arm was only half, the entire forearm and hand utterly vaporized, leaving a gap that floods fresh blood to the ground. A pained groan expels from Meditat before he fights to suppress it, both of his forearms destroyed from his own attacks. Yet they were the only ones he had, and so after failing to derive an alternative strategy immediately, coupled with the adrenaline spiking which leads to desperation, Meditat reluctantly grows flames from those elbows to reform his arms just as before, the black and white gauntlets with the frosty knuckles.
Needing to capitalize on the little he can before another attack could be made on him, one that’d be especially dangerous given the intimate proximity, no choice is given but for Meditat to throw his right arm forward in a punch to the abdomen, which again causes the abdomen to just ever so slightly recoil back from the blow, again at the trade of Meditat’s entire lower arm. Three strikes were all that was needed for confidence, leading Meditat to throw a fourth with his left fist as his right arm regrows from another flame. After the left, he throws the right while regrowing that left, then the right, then the left, throwing punch after punch in an accelerating flurry propelled with blue bursts to speed his hits, trying to minimize a window for a counter. Every punch decimates an arm, imbuing excruciating pain into his body at every moment, his own strikes dealing vastly more damage to himself if anything. Splats of crimson blood fling wildly with every hit, smearing over the pure white snow by his feet, and yet his punches only get faster as every hit recoils the Fallen’s abdomen briefly. His cape waves wildly from a combination of the winds and the reactionary breezes of his own impact, his lenses flaring like his knuckles, every single set of knuckles being manifested multiple times a second, grown to be destroyed, grown to be destroyed, grown to be destroyed, grown to be destroyed.
However, whereas Meditat increases the intensity of his punches, ignoring his own trauma in hope to maximize damage with quicker hits brought in greater force, the recoil effect it has on the target gradually begins to lessen, the grunting quieting to silence, the body’s staggering becoming more subtle. In fact, at the peak of the assault, the Fallen’s body fixes perfectly still, adapted to the point where there is no more observable impact of the punches as the fists now seem to vanish before they even make physical contact like before. Again the Fallen just watches Meditat with a head tilted down, watching the shorter warrior throw all he has, covering the ground with his own blood, roaring as quietly as he can to bear the pain, all in an effort that’s progressively futile.
While the one directly engaged in the gruesome fight holds their ground, watching from further back remains the three Bellators behind the crumbled walls, watching the horrific sight of their leader brutalizing himself for the sake of imperceivable change. Despite those pained roars being muffled, they still rise over the heavy breeze, such torment resonating across the peak.
Wide eyed, Kokei and Ekitai gaze at the helpless violence, both of them uneasy on how to act as they’re both well aware that if this is the extent of their leader’s capabilities, they’d have far less impact trying to join. In fact, the pirates behind them have made more distance away, slowly stumbling from the dangerous zone where these two titans clashed, their attacks having enough range to potentially bring collateral to them. In the center, Dana morbidly observes the bleak battle, those spurts of blood reflecting off her golden face, her friend torturing himself alone.
Despite everyone else on the mountain either backing away or at least refraining from moving any closer, Dana advances forward in a march that quickly breaks into a sprint, huffing desperately as Kokei instinctively chases behind though Ekitai first wails, “WAIT,” with quick glances back to the pirates. Yet the other two don’t slow down but instead run quicker, widening the gap between his old crew and his current, forcing the difficult decision leading him to break into a sprint towards the booms. Right at the start of the sprint, Mary focuses her gaze onto her old gunslinging friend before desperately shrieking his name with her hand stretched forward, though it’s no use for he’s already run for the flames.
In fact, Mary instinctively stumbles forward in preparation to break into a sprint before being stopped by an extended sleeved arm from Beagle who persuades in anguish, “Mary wait!” His arm functions as a wall that catches Mary, though she still struggles to try pushing against it, grabbing the arm to push it away, distressed over the sight of the friend she just reunited with already headed to danger.
Though reinforcing the resistance is Rezzo, not with his body but instead with his gentle words: “Don’t, Mary, he’s already gone.” Although having less resistant power given that his arms aren’t even held out but instead folded over his chest, that action is what brings Mary to a halt, admitting defeat in that she stops wrestling the arm though her teary streams show discontent to the situation.
All she can do is just helplessly stare forward, her shimmering eyes reflecting the figure of the senile gunslinger running alongside the woman in the white hoodie, both of them struggling against the snow to chase the golden cyborg whose sprint is entirely unbothered, a combination of her superior cybernetic legs along with her running form allowing her to run across the soft floor without sinking.
She leads the charge past the towers and demolished walls, her arms swaying back and forth with a low stance, not a typical running form of a person but instead one embodying animalistic traits. This isn’t a typical animal though, but one who augments themselves with cannons that extrude from the shoulders, able to swivel from aiming at the sky to settling forward in the direction of movement, each one the size of her forearm with wide barrels. She keeps her own hands the same though, and after those augmentations she doesn’t weigh herself down any further, keeping her speed a priority.
First to reach the rubble ring, the ruins of the castle enclosure, she effortlessly climbs over the metal stones with little deceleration whereas both Kokei and Ekitai reach moments later and struggle to balance themselves. In this downtime though Ekitai swipes through his handgun’s interface, choosing his best shots against this devilish entity, swiping rapidly without an immediate solution as this choice is a weighty one. He does come to an answer alas for he stops swiping and instead cocks the hammer down at the same time as Dana reaches the other end of the ring, resuming her charge on the snow towards the nearing target, bringing her hands to her side with her claws shining sharp.
All at once Dana lets out an electric bellow in preparation for a leap, Ekitai extends his arm to aim his weapon on the large target, and Kokei’s body begins producing pink sparks many of which concentrate on her arms in thicker arcs, all of which finally seems to reach the Fallen’s attention, as told by the slight raising of the head towards those three even as the punches continue on the torso.
Upon lifting its head, the Fallen’s hollow eyes begin to brighten, caustics rushing into the concentrated gaps in the stone skull, a warning.
Hyperfixed on maintaining the consistent flurry while bearing the pain, Meditat hadn’t even noticed the reinforcements until the change of focus from his opponent. That realization comes in a wave of terror, terror which imbues both his body which swivels towards those allies as well as his voice which he frantically cries to them through: “DON’T!!!” In a race against forces, his extended upper arm births a stream of flames forward which reconstructs the forearm which then connects to the palm that harbors all five fingers, those fingers then beaming an additional larger blaze forth towards the three Bellators, namely the cyborg in the center. That blaze stops in a horizontal burst which instantly materializes into a large wall made of bright frosty crystals wide enough to conceal all three of them, providing them a barrier.
Their path abruptly obstructed, the three freeze and stare behind the translucent wall, not perfectly smooth given the natural fragmented texturing effect of the crystals. Still, they’re all able to see Meditat through the wall, staring back, his cape waving from the sudden turn, lifting and depressing, one of those depressions revealing the towering figure of the Fallen, the opponent Meditat had just turned his back on. Before either of the three allies could even execute a reaction, they all watch the Fallen’s body finally animate to a greater extent, one to raise the right arm and grab the back of the leader’s throat before both of them are suddenly struck by a huge dark root that drives itself into the ground from the great tree. In an instant, both of their bodies vanish, seemingly consumed by the root, neither of them leaving a trace for they disappear wholly.
In the place of her ally, leader, and friend, that slimy black root gently pulsates in front of Dana who, without any idea of what had just transpired, electrically shrieks: “MEDIT!” She instinctively bounds straight upwards, able to leap all the way over the wall despite it being about a story tall, flipping around to land on the other side. With haste she stumbles forward to the huge root that’s replaced her friend and the beast he was dealing with, the one she had tried to help fight against, only for that involvement to have splintered his focus, leading to this disappearance. She huffs in that synthetic tone, staring straight at the root with grieving disbelief, now the one to be hyperfixed as guilt bombards her.
Both Kokei and Ekitai run around the wall as they are closer to the edge, able to swing around to reach Dana’s side as Kokei glances around sporadically, exclaiming dumbfounded: “Wait where did he go??” whereas Ekitai remains silent, just observing the root and surrounding scene with a disturbed expression. Wherever his gaze travels, so does the aim of his handgun, ready for any action although the mountain has become quiet again, no sign of either of them no matter what angle he glances to. Kokei also slowly paces around, taking a glance below the root in any miserable hope of finding the leader, both of her and Ekitai surveying the surrounding area. Between them however simply stands Dana, unmoving, for her feet are attached to the ground in front of the root and her gaze is locked, that black streak splattered over her face, harsh against the otherwise gentle whites of the environment. Her head begins to ring, diluting the voices of Kokei and Ekitai, the former asking: “Eki, where did he go?? He was…just here…,” which is answered with: “I don’t know…shit where is he…the hell was that?” They continue their discussion, but all further sentences aren’t spoken loud enough to surface over the rising ringing in Dana’s head as she just stares at the root, for this time the wall hadn’t saved all of them. Those last words ring in her head, perhaps the most desperate his voice reached since his return. He hadn’t exactly been perfect at staying alongside the team, running ahead to the precipice of the action alone as he struggled to function as a team leader when he hadn’t the sufficient prior experience, compounded with the lack of battle knowledge about the two beside her or even how she has changed. However, he hadn’t before plead for their distance from a fight, for them to resign themselves entirely from battle. Even though that beg only carried a single word, its meaning was decipherable: This was a fight he wasn’t confident in anyone facing. He hardly ever perceived his own allies as liabilities in the field, perhaps he may show initial apprehension to letting them join a mission he’s decided on himself but he’s never actively prevented their participation. He was that terrified of the beast, and now he was gone out of reach, potentially trapped with that very thing.
The ringing lingers over those two voices, however it’s not as loud as the sudden deep humming that reels Dana out of her anxious thoughts, finding both Ekitai and Kokei stumbling back in fright, both of their gazes locked in the other direction slightly off from the pirates. Chattering rises from that general direction, bringing Dana to move her own gaze to the source of that deep humming, that being the huge tree which the Fallen had entered through. The hum doesn’t come from any particular point on the tree, but rather its entirety, all of the branches from the main root to the very tips. It’s no ordinary hum either, for it has a strange roughness reminiscent of a growl, one intimidating growl which initiates Ekitai to aim at the tree with uncertainty.
Moments later though, that growl starts to emit from the other roots that pierce the golden train, shuffling the pirates chaotically as they stride away from the sources of the menacing sound. The three Bellators no longer become passive observers though as the root right beside them begins growling, causing Kokei to jolt backwards in fright, both Dana and Ekitai taking slow steps away from it in cautious reaction. That growling gradually loudens, the roughness beginning to clarify into a strange rasp, further repelling the three Bellators who move together around the wall’s left side. They take slow steps, for there isn’t a direct cause to assume danger, yet they remain on high alert each side by side. They glance everywhere, their focus leaping between the many growling roots as now all of them have begun their resonance, freaking the pirates who continue to skew away aimlessly, no longer huddling away from the action as now they’re surrounded. The Bellators as well as the pirates begin to crowd towards the center, furthest from all the roots, including Rezzo, Mary, and Beagle who all keep close together too. The growling reaches an apex in volume, having been steadily rising until this moment, which should theoretically be easing as that may assume a lack in progression, though without any precedent of this anomaly there couldn’t be any such assumptions made confidently.
That’s when in one of Kokei’s glances towards the main tree, she stumbles back away from it, pointing her finger up and muttering, “Wha-what is that thing-?” Immediately both Dana and Ekitai shift their attention towards it as a couple other pirates follow simply from overhearing the exclamation, but others do as well from their own observations. All of their reactions are similar though: that being nervousness. That source of nervousness resides up in the large root tree, where along nearly all the branches stuck out small sticks. Many of them rise out not only from the top but all around the cylindrical surfaces. They’re scattered throughout the tree, kept at a fair distance of about five or ten feet, however quickly there grows more sticks more intimately neighboring the others, forming pairs given that there are sets of two close, all those sets still decently separated.
At once in harmony, all those sticks bend at the middle where there appears to be a joint, bending such that the tips of the sticks return back into the root similar to the other roots which would surface into the ground. However this isn’t the same phenomenon, as following the return comes the emergence of larger ellipsoids in between the pairs, and at this moment the pattern of caustics within the roots flare brighter, the growling rising once more as those illuminations pulsate freakishly. Those ellipsoids emerge in great numbers, but as they rise out into the open, their more intricate shapes become clearer, for they were not simply ellipsoids but rather slender humanoids with those aforementioned sticks being their arms which attach from the shoulders. The entire bodies are black, reflecting no sunlight or even the glow from the roots, each of them pushing themselves out of the roots in slow, creepy motions.
As observed before, the bodies emerge from all around the roots’ surfaces, including directly below, pulling some of them quicker down, revealing their long torsos above their pelvises where two sticks as legs rise or rather fall. Many of the bodies crawling straight down begin to flail their arms as there’s no surface to latch onto, their ankles sinking out. Then like apples naturally detaching themselves off their branches, masses of these beings slip out of the roots entirely, falling multiple stories straight into the snow, diving into the ground limply. More and more drop at a time, as first it’s only the ones who crawled from the bottom, but soon those along the sides slip out of their branches and plummet into the ground like rain, pulling the pirates away from the tree as quickly a few become ten, and ten becomes twenty, the numbers growing every second. Those who crawl from the very top swing themselves off the branches too, all of their movements strangely disoriented, like mindless drunkards. In fact, after plummeting into the snow, none of them move, further confusing those in the center of these roots, stuck on this tall mountain far from civilization. The final couple entities fling themselves off the tree, collapsing into the ground, some of them diving straight into each other as if they have little regard for one another.
Still, the unnerving atmosphere raises caution within the three Bellators who make their way alongside the three pirate leaders, former enemies no longer occupied with each other, for they all stare at the ground beneath the tree. The other pirates do too, all of their attention fixed on the ground, the ground from where the first arm rises, revealing its huge hands with sharp nails, those fingers strangely curved, unnatural. That arm bends to grab the ground with that hand, as do many other arms that rise from the white floor, slowly dragging the bodies back up as the backs start parting the ground, the snow sliding off the bodies which are inhumanly lean, almost seeming anorexic. They don’t rise synchronously, for some of them are even buried by others, with those surfacing now doing so rather slowly, strangely.
The first to raise their arm becomes the first to pull their head from the ground, white snow sliding off their smooth skulls, their heads slender with no hair or any human features other than the general shape. In fact, they lack any features, for at first only their neck moves, letting the head tilt up to direct its face towards the crowd, revealing its face to be simply black, blank, almost like the cyborg’s. The creature glances panoramically, studying the mass in front, stalking them in silence as none of the subjects dare move, as despite Ekitai’s arms shaking, he keeps his barrel to the ground so as to not make any sudden declarations. Dana’s shoulder cannons remain extruded, but they don’t autonomously move, not for now at least. Kokei’s body had stopped producing sparks and it hasn’t restarted yet, remaining that way in this cold moment, entranced frozen.
They all are, as more humanoids rise from the white ground, and as they steadily begin their rise, the first one completes its survey to which the entire face begins to stretch vertically, as if a jaw in the center of the head has unhinged, and in that center opens an aperture consuming nearly the entire face, one with rows and rows of innumerable small spikes with illuminated white edges like teeth, spiraling from the edge of the mouth all the way down the throat, down into the voids within them.
Its prey has been found, and the pack has risen.