[@VitaVitaAR][@ERode][@Psyker Landshark][@Raineh Daze][@PaulHaynek]

Unreal.

Gerard grit his teeth as that impossibly huge mass of metal turned his blade aside with ease. Even at the start of its wide arc, the Bandit King's strength was beyond belief, as though the young knight had thought to stab a hurricane. Truthfully, he was lucky to have been the first man parried— once all that weight got going to real speed, there was no doubt in his mind that Jeremiah would have snapped his humble longsword clean in half. "Knight's Doom Jeremiah"... He had, in one swing, deflected all of their attacks, not just Segremors' own. Be it hard-earned skill, ferocious instinct, or that truly nightmarish combination of both at once, the man had something beyond mere brute strength. That much was clear.

"Fine, I'll take you all on!"

All of that with one hand, no less. One hand, the other unable to properly grip his blade, and still fighting viciously enough to force that heap of metal around into another blindingly powerful arc. Bad. Gerard had fully committed to that thrust coming out of the roll, putting every ounce of strength he had into covering that distance with one long strike. Even though the massive fighter had knocked his sword off course, the knight himself still had all of that momentum propelling him inward— and straight into the middle to long distance that Jeremiah's blade smashed through with wild abandon.

He knew, having seen the speed at which the man moved firsthand, that starting and stopping and starting again spelled certain death. Catching his own momentum and changing direction now, when the other man's blade was already moving— he would not get out of the way in time. Gerard had trained enough, he had [i]fought enough[/i], to know this.

He knew that nothing he could do would alter that thing's course. Interposing his blade between Jeremiah's would have normally worked, if the Bandit King had been using even a "normal" greatsword, but against this monstrosity that tore through a full harness of plate in one cleave it would stand no chance. If another one of those thunderous arcs came, he would not have the good fortune of meeting it before it had full extension, full power.

He knew that he was by all rights dead if he took defensive action. No time to reposition, not enough durability to block or parry, a very slim chance of changing levels that would only leave him open to a follow-up. There was no defense, no ultimate protective measure, that he could take... Save one.

An old philosophy hammered into him at an even greener point than where Jarde or Fanilly stood now. The first thing he learned to keep himself alive as a mercenary. Something any artful swordsman would call crazy, any traditional duelist would see as mad beyond reason. As simply as you could boil it down:

[color=goldenrod][i]Stop the enemy's attack by killing them.[/i][/color]

[b]"Fire."[/b]

It all happened at once.

Rather than retreat, than stop himself, Gerard stepped forward, riding the force of his initial drive off of the ground.

Artificer Elodie, from within some concealed position to the front of them all, sprung forth, holding one of her inventions that was aglow with arcane might, filling the peripheral of his vision with a crimson luminescence to match the flaming log on the other side. Steely and determined, she levelled the device at their foe.

Rather than fight the momentum of his parried sword, Gerard welcomed the motion, using the lateral force as a starting point to seamlessly draw a clockwise arc over himself, blade glinting with decisive intent as it soon returned to his strong side. 

Bandit King Jeremiah, rather than following his prior whirlwind with another bone-crushing, wide swing, stabbed his blade deep into the earth at his feet. Gritting his teeth in a pained, enraged snarl, he used that one good arm of his to wrench it through the dust and soil, kicking up a cloud that quickly began to obscure his form.

Across Gerard, on the other side of that mountainous man, Renar Hagen's taciturn appraisal of the exchange of blows had come to an end. The poleaxe-wielder was charging straight in, much the same as he, with the deadly tip of his weapon primed and ready to lash out from maximum range in one definitive strike. Knowing him, he too intended this to be a gamble on putting their enemy away for good.

Using all of that rotational velocity, drawing power from both Jeremiah's parry and his own muscle, Gerard cast his own die on this final thwarting hew. If it meant putting an end to this, he would willingly force his luck. He did not don armor to [i]avoid[/i] danger. 

That was the last the young knight saw of any of them, before the world before him became sound, force, and [i]flame.[/i]

The artificer's rod had produced an explosion from its maw that fully engulfed "Knight's Doom", assaulting him with a blast that could have very well knocked aside a fortress wall— to say nothing of the man's attempted smokescreen. The roar of fire and wind howled in his ears, the dust he had kicked up blew back in his face, the sudden burst of light had doubtlessly blinded him. A blast like a barrel of gunpowder, focused and given direction straight at the Bandit King.

It had very nearly engulfed Gerard himself, but he didn't care. It would have been nobody's fault but his own, and it was less important than the opening it had given him. Light to conceal his form and blade, a burst of sound to mask his armor and footfalls in the approach. There would be no better opportunity today than this.

Perfect timing.

Reon bless her.

[color=goldenrod]Now [i]take it[/i].[/color]

Squinting through the light that engulfed his field of view, braced against the wind and heat that blasted against his body, a raw howl escaped his lips as he brought the blade through where he knew Jeremiah's side to have been with every ounce of his being.