[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/t3kp4zp.png[/img][/center]

The moment Amaryllis sliced into Billy, she could tell that something was wrong. The resistance that she felt was all off, and her Sword shuddered against her lungs as well, disgusted by what it had just cut through. Nothing but a mass of skin and bone, like sheets of paper stacked up and given structure with plastic tubing. With all the damage dealt, the lich’s form twisted and transformed into a true monster, shedding any semblance of the barbaric swordsman he had been before. A monster of many mouths snapped at her, and Amaryllis twisted away, scraps of her uniform caught in those horrific maws. Bounding away atop her aerial footholds, the Knight of Rose drew in a deep breath as she assessed the situation once again.

Billy was nothing more than a graceless flesh slug now, and one that was most likely improbably strong as well. Slicing into him would only give him more weapons, and his ability to shed his flesh meant that her usual tactics of lining wounds with silver meant nothing. What they needed was magical artillery. What they needed was the ability to just blow that monster up to bits, and hopefully spot its weak point while doing so.

What [i]she[/i] needed was to stall him.

[color=778899]“Sage Mariette, Captain Sophia! I shall bind this gluttonous beast down, so bombard it with the entirety of your sorcerous might!”[/color] 

Leaping high up in the air, the amethyst-eyed fencer tunneled into the depths of her magical reserves and forced it all out in a burst of magical power. The dozens of iron buds she left suspended in the air around Billy erupted with vigorous growth, ivy chains latching onto each other and shooting through the open maws of the wretched lich. Though individually weak, they entwined and ensnared, countless gleaming threads pulling against the teeth that sought to close upon them, pushing against the flesh that sought to pulsate against them. And where some broke, more tendrils of metal burst out, a steel hydra that continued to tangle up the flesh-hulk, until it was incorporated into the monster’s body itself.

Upon a highway lamp, Amaryllis grit her teeth, her left hand clenched over the enlargening flesh-hulk as her magical veins rebelled against strain. But so long as it was only her left hand that paid the consequence of magical overuse, that was fine. For in her right hand, her Silverlight shone bright, its mirror-polish hungry to dye itself in the viscera of the flesh-hulk.