[center][color=yellow][h3]Mad World[/h3][/color]
[@zarkun][@lazo][@kapuchu][/center]

A fusillade of rocks proved very effective against even a gigantic condensed mass of the otherworldly insects.  Each slung boulder tore a hole through the aberrant amalgam’s body, and from beneath, plumes of incinerating flame roasted the lowest part of the swarm to a fine crisp.  This presented an immediate problem: without the support of its ‘legs’ to keep the rest of its form up, the rest of the bugs were forced to loosen their cohesion in order to fly for themselves.  To onlookers, this manifested as both a slight swell in size and a definite, all-encompassing kind of stagger.  By continuing his assault, the hellhound prevented the swarm from reconsolidating itself in order to attack, forcing it to instead continuously maintain its form.  A few tendrils lashed out, and another compacted clump of bugs sailed from its mouth in an attempt to bulldoze Fenn, but he found himself remarkably unmolested as he skirted the platform’s perimeter, though the intensity of the situation did not die off.  Indeed, as Souta, Lily, and Wrath could attest as their own foes beleaguered them, the battle was at its climax!

Or rather—anticlimax.  A sound like a wave crashing upon a rocky shore filled the Hanging Jungle, and instantly every single swarm construct dissolved.  Their constituents zipped in bright, flowing streams of yellowish-green back toward the behemoth called Ourakekem.  Souta, completely out of breath, doubled over and heaved a sigh of relief.  The groups guide, Uhelei, who’d been fighting alongside Souta due to comparable size and less of a risk for collateral damage, outright collapsed.  Every inch of his armor had been gnawed, and more than a few severe dents further marred its surface, making him look oddly wraithlike.  His heartlight pounded, and he did not seem inclined to translate for the eldritch observer; though he did not need to.  To all, it was clear that the test was over.

Once the swarms were nothing more but pits of light resting in the cracks of Ourakekem’s body, it spoke again.  This time, Uhelei shouted its words so that his allies could hear.  “Your strength is not wanting.  You are to be the instrument of this sky’s liberation.  Come with me to Wit’s End, where we will find your seal, and my eternal foe.”  While repeating this, the technoorganic tribesman’s tone grew incredulous.  One could easily pick up on his shocked disbelief.  “Surely not…?”

With all eyes on its massive form, Ourakekem began to descend.  Like a miniature planet it floated downward, then forward slightly, so that it hovered directly beneath the suspended array of platforms on which the Agents resided.  Seeing no other option, Souta nevertheless looked to Panoptos for direction, who nodded.  [color=50C878]”Hey, might as well.  Why slog on through more jungle and another couple stalactites when we could fly straight there?  Plus, we all know there’d be some kind of fight or another when we got there, anyway.  Better to have an ancient god-monster on our side, huh?”[/color]  The watcher wasted no time in descending.  With a helpless shrug, Souta affixed a Trawler hook to the side of his platform, and then jumped over the edge.  His elongating weapon brought him safely to the cranium of Ourakekem waiting below, and before he reeled it in, Uhelei slid down the chain like a fire pole to join him.

The moment all were on board, the psychic behemoth began to move.  It quickly picked up speed, leaving a trail of pale green energies behind as it accelerated.  Barely had it gone a hundred meters before the chunks of rock held in the air began to rain down.  A couple landed on Ourakekem to break, slid off, or get stuck there, but the stony shower wasn’t any serious hazard and the creature certainly didn’t seem bothered.  Very soon, the Agents were traveling beneath the Hanging Jungle, and once free from the vast tangle, the feeling of isolation grew strong indeed.  Like floating in a colorful void, or swimming in the open ocean, there was nothing but sky, sky, and more sky.  Clouds of orange, yellow, red, and green hues could be spotted in clumps, some of them surrounding the inverted peaks of the largest stalactites above.

Before long, the silent behemoth started to ascend once more.  When the ceiling came into view, however, its landscape appeared markedly different.  Outcrops of rock extended and twisted in bizarre, impossible formations, and dark clouds could be seen often.  The bridges seen before reappeared, but curved and corkscrewed—they would have been troublesome to navigate on foot, indeed.  Yet, when Ourakekem drifted closer –almost perilously close to the ceiling, in fact- shadowy shapes could be seen walking on a few of the bridges.  Their positioning completely defied gravity; some were completely upside down, yet somehow they moved, gecko-like, unbothered by the propriety of direction.

Ourakekem drew ever closer, and as it did, a yellow light could be seen among the obscuring clouds and pillars ahead.  Souta ran forward to position himself just above the behemoth’s eye, so he too could see exactly what lay ahead.  Around them, the various roads were converging, headed in as roundabout a way as possible for the radiant glow.  A feeling of anticipation swelled up in the smith, just as strong as the burgeoning atmospheric pressure that began to press upon him.  He watched, as his companions no doubt did, as Ourakekem passed through a wall of murky fog and the light shown forth.  Before them was [url=http://img01.deviantart.net/a7c4/i/2012/054/d/e/dreams_road_by_wanbao-d4qre7y.jpg]Wit’s End[/url]—the Undersky’s most legendary spot, and the resting place of the brilliantly golden Third Seal of the Apocalypse.