Pandemonium: that was all that lay before him.  Souta, so amazed that he stopped in his tracks momentarily, could only think of MOBA’s he’s seen played at various points in his young adulthood.  When a teamfight began in such a game, the screen became filled with so many flashes, colors, and movements, coupled with an unintelligible cacophony of sound, that he lost all track of what was going on.  The riotous scene unfolding before him was that times a hundred.  His eyes darted left and right, up and down, trying to make sense of the unfettered chaos that was an open battle.  For the first time he really realized that Gilgamesh’s engagements were more skirmishes than anything, and that for all its pretention about bringing humanity into league with the other powers, it was essentially a guerilla force.  This was what heaven and hell could do when they pulled out all the stops.  Even more incredibly, it was his task to wade through that mess to enter the mausoleum.  It wasn’t as if there was a teeming horde covering every inch of soil, but it would be no easy feat for a mere man.  Souta’s floodgates opened and adrenaline began to flow, kickstarting him into action.  With one final whistle, he summoned Deluge to his off hand and ran forward.

Immediately, a pack of Scarecrows noticed the new intruder, but they were far enough apart so that when they launched into a murderous sprint toward him, they did not arrive at the same time.  Souta slid to a stop and waited, his gun leveled, as one of the bladed demons bore down upon him.  Its blade rose, flashing in the sunlight, and with nary a moment to spare the smith pulled the trigger.  A spike of fused fire jammed straight into the Scarecrow’s head with enough force to lay it out, falling backward as it flew forward to skid right up to its shooter.  Souta’s hammer was already on the way, and with a workman’s precision he nailed the fire spike he’d just inserted, and it exploded in a geyser of flame.  He jerked back as it blew the Scarecrow apart, sending a plume upward, and he wasted no time shooting straight into it.  The spike lit up as it passed through the flame, and though it missed the next target, it detonated a split-second later in the midst of the incoming crowd, throwing them in different directions.  One staggered in his direction and, in the spirit of his native Japan’s favorite sport, Souta reeled back and let his hammer fly like a baseball bat.  Shrieking, the demon found a second wind, and kicked out with its bladed leg to cut into Souta’s unprotected back.  In a spray of green mist, a skeleton appeared from the smith’s sepulchral hammer, blocking with its own body long enough for its summoner to turn and strike again.  This time the Scarecrow stayed down, leaving only three left.  All at once, the remaining trio surged at him in a mad hopping run.

[i]Krak, krak, krak![/i]  Three fire spikes embedded into the ground in an arc,  causing the demons to hesitate.  A moment was all Souta needed.  Deluge, running on empty, disappeared and was replaced by a Trawler.  Grinning, Souta inserted the warhammer Escre into the bottom of the hook, and with a hefty swing the makeshift flail swung into the Scarecrows from the side one after another.  The momentum carried it around again, revolving like a lasso and with every strike the hammer made another ghostly skeleton appear to gouge at the unfortunate demon’s soft parts with its bony fingers.  In a matter of moments, the Scarecrows were wiped out, and Souta reeled in his weapon to detach it.  Working quickly, he banished the Trawler and made his gun reappear, then slipped Escre into a groove along the top of the weapon’s barrel.  Immediately Deluge’s inner blue fire turned green.  Though he was proud on the inside, and hoped the others got an idea of his ingenuity from this first little fight, Souta knew there was no time to waste and prepared to advance again.