[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]Carcass Isle- Where All Things Must Come[/center]
[center]Lvl 9 (30/90) -> Lvl 9 (36/90) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 1,327 words[/center]

Gunshots rang out all around as the Seekers continued their attacks against the Colossus that had taken the place of the Orphan. Geralt kept the Breaching Bastion firing as often as it could, but each time one of those golden creatures slipped past and crashed into it, Geralt winced just a little. He knew that this thing didn't repair itself, and while he might be able to work with Blazermate and that Engineer Striker of hers after the fight to fix it, that wouldn't help them if it got destroyed in the middle of the battle. So when the Guardian's massive hand came sweeping in, ready to potentially crush the Bastion in its grip, Geralt dismissed the cannon platform with a small bit of reluctance and looked down at the package he'd been given. 

With his enhanced senses, Geralt managed to get a tiny whiff of the odor that the matured blood gave off, and he wrinkled his nose at it. "Yep, blood. Why in the hells would they give me [i]this[/i]?” There had to be a reason, of course, so Geralt shrugged and decided to give it a shot. 

Or, more accurately, a toss. As the pungent blood cocktail flew through the air, Geralt wondered, not for the first time, just what the hell he’d been pulled into. Tossing vials of blood at weird floating jelly creatures and gold humanoid missiles? Not to mention the absolutely gargantuan tar monster that was slowly ambling towards them, being beat on by what was left of the expanded Blue Team. A few had come and gone, but the team had overall grown in size and they were about to be finished with their job. 

The vial hit into and exploded upon one of the floating gas bag creatures, spraying shards of glass and blood all about the place, causing it and a few around it to pop like the others all had when damaged. Geralt hummed at that, before running and leaping from his building to another in order to dodge a massive sweeping hand that looked to take hold of him.

Landing with a grunt, he looked back at the colossal monster and grabbed another vial of blood, throwing it at the Guardian BT with the hopes of doing [i]something[/i]. What he got was a section of the tarry body boiling off violently and being covered over with gold. “Ohoho.” Geralt breathed upon seeing that. “Blood hurts, huh?” Armed with new knowledge, he tossed another vial at the giant Guardian before dodging out of the way of another golden projectile-person, getting an idea. 

“Gonna stink, though…” He muttered before smashing a blood cocktail against the floor beneath him, blood splattering his legs and leaving a powerful odor to assail his senses. Geralt had to suppress a gag for a moment, before drawing his crossbow and dipping the bolt head in the thick, goopy substance. Letting loose the bolt, he nodded as it struck true into the Guardian’s form, turning a small section gold. It certainly wasn’t enough to make the time investment worth it, so he left the rest of the blood on the floor to serve as a deterrent for the enemies and simply let loose a somewhat slow volley. 

The smoking, volatile barrel that Ace tossed at the thing, however, made the fight turn quite heartily in their favor. The massive eyeball on its chest shut and retreated, being replaced by a field of gold crystal, before reappearing on its shoulder. That wasn’t all, though, as the buildings they were using as shelter began to collapse beneath the tar, new structures even more dilapidated and unstable as the last appeared. 

Following Nadia’s path roughly, Geralt bounded off the roof of a small shack to reach the stone wall she sprung to, then charged across the makeshift bridge she created. When the hand-tentacles came swinging, the giant Witcher threw himself to the ‘ground’ to avoid it. The other two took some doing, and Geralt’s fingers barely brushed against the last tentacle as it passed, but he avoided being pulled into its grip and crushed. The Hat Kid, however, did not have such luck, and Nadia leapt into action to rescue the child. 

Taking advantage of the Guardian’s proximity, Geralt hurled the last of the blood cocktails he’d gotten from Djikstra’s package before cracking open Vesemir’s and tossing another pair at the colossus before drawing his crossbow again and firing more bolts at the open eye. He wasn’t willing to risk the Bastion in such proximity, especially with their enemy so clearly on the brink. Instead, he summoned the Imps and Fizz to attack while he turned his aim towards the gas bags and shot them from the sky. 

Before long, the combined efforts of the Seekers felled their quarry, and Geralt let out a deep sigh of relief when the wave of darkness swept over him. [i]That[/i] marked their victory this time, well and truly. 

“It’s done.” He stated. Simple. As the Seekers gathered, Geralt looked over the others. It had been a tough ride for them, but Blazermate did a damn fine job of patching them up. Speaking of which, Geralt summoned the Judicator for a quick round of sickening healing to help ease a bit of the burden on Kamek, who’d run dangerously low on magical stamina, and Blazermate, who could only heal so many people so quickly. 

Peach’s ultimate declaration made Geralt chuckle. That was how they all felt, he was sure. He was tired, his armor would need hours of work to even remotely resemble what it once looked like, and somebody needed to deal with the Spirit. 

Might as well be him. He wouldn’t admit to a small bit of reluctance, and even a bit of annoyance at the idea, but not only did he have trouble imagining the others taking it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see them take it. As much as he didn’t want to become a literal monster, he didn’t want to see it happen to the others. His point about mutation was part of it, of course, as well.

Crossing the chiralium field, however, was an effort that took much more than it seemed at first glance. Each step weighed on him like an anvil. A near century of regrets, pain, loss, all sought to drag him into the sand and suffocate him. He grabbed the Spirit and turned around, forcing himself to move out of the field quickly. 

As the others watched, he plunged the thing into him, facing the familiar light of Spirit Fusion. When it ended, Geralt noticed that the others looked taller than they had. Which, of course, meant that he’d shrunk. 

He noticed a few other things, as well. The first was a noticeable irritation at the slightly empty feeling in his stomach. Now that the battle was over and the adrenaline was fading, he was damned hungry. Whether the Spirit had given him a ravenous appetite, or it was a mere coincidence, he couldn’t tell. He could also feel the presence of…something…inside of him. It felt almost natural, having surely come from the Orphan’s Spirit, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was, nor was he in the mood to find out just yet. 

As he looked himself over and started taking stock of his new, leaner, appearance, Geralt frowned. Was that all? He looked a bit uglier? Wow, that…so much for the horrific ramifications of fusing oneself to an eldritch monstrosity. Walking over to the others, Geralt rolled his eyes. “Aside from the obvious, physical changes, I honestly barely feel different. Maybe a bit annoyed at the anti-climax, if anything.” He joked. Shrugging, he turned his head to Peach. “The Princess is right though. Let’s get the hell out of here. Same way back, I take it? Is the Atomos still shrunk down?” The last question was directed at Junior and Kamek.

It was time for them to leave.