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Zell had followed Adam to Zigmund's dying body, stepping through the giant water-absorbent roots with his usual disregard for his own safety, all to have a front-row seat to Adam finishing their enemy off. A dark smile was on the Englishman's face.  He was tempted to delay Adam so he could rip Zigmund's helmet off and see his true face.  Perhaps even stop Adam altogether and cut this bastard's head off, just as he'd promised back in the Mazy Hillocks.  But no.  Adam had the job covered.  A close up view of the life leaving Zigmund's body would suffice.

Adam raised a hand as the rain began to fall heavy.

"Adios, Tin Can," Zell jeered smugly.  "It's been fun."

And then came the blast.  Suffice to say; it was not the kind of blast Zell expected.  The light and noise alone, as Adam's beam turn into an explosion, was enough for a complete sensory overload.

[i]...Piiinnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggg...[/i]

Blind and deaf to the constant blur and ringing in his head, Zell barely realised he was flying through the air until he hit something.  Hard.  It was was one of the statues of Hades that were lined around the temple courtyard.  Zell was left lying on his back in the dirt unconcious, until enough rain filled his mouth to choke him and bring him back to life, coughing hard.  And yet, the ringing persisted.  Very gradually his vision and hearing came back, Zell reorienting himself with the guidance of an angry, heavily American-accented speech from their resurrected comrade.

Seeing Zigmund stood there, Adam nowhere to be found, everyone else spread about... and then his memory of the very last moment before the blast:  Zigmund laughing. From struggling to hang onto his life, to laughing.  What changed?

"The rain," Zell whispered to himself.  Then with this new conclusion, he looked at Zigmund again.  Their enemy was devoid of any injury - any scratch! - they'd given him.  "Shit.  We hit him with everything we had."

Clive was angry as fuck.  Rightly so.  But Zell had already felt the pain of what happens when fighting while enraged.  He had to get in there.  He got to his feet and as soon as he put weight on his left foot, he was made aware of the heavily bleeding hole in his leg.  "Fuck," he was the cry of pain as he fell on his face.  Pain hit Ten, all through his body, as if jumping out for 'Surprise!' at this very moment.  His left leg was completely fucked and he was in agony.

He could barely stand and limp, falling over once again, forced to sit out and simply watch Clive and Barracker go at Zigmund. Forced to relive the Mazy Hillocks fight all over again - a completely clear and utterly demoralising power difference between Second Chance and the metal ninja.

[Center][b][i]~~~~[Colour=Green]"Picture my surprise when I took this finely crafted orichalcum claymore from the corpse of an orc captain."[/colour]~~~~~[/i][/b][/center]

-The memory of the first meeting between Zell Brooks and Barracker Kassel in Golden Tree Park.  Two men, strangers, bonding over girls and weapons.  Funny.  Different worlds and yet; typical boys.

The entire meeting was burned into his mind, not just because of the new friend he'd made, but mostly because it had been the first time he'd opened up and verbalised his feelings for MacKensie.  In this particular moment, the specific memory of Barracker's Claymore was the important part... as it just FUCKING BROKE IN HALF!

Panic began to set in.  Zell heartrate managed to rise even more.  Orichalcum - one of the hardest metals in Mytheria - swung with vampire strength, connection clean... broken on impact. Zigmund had become more powerful than ever.  Everyone's limited spells were running low, no doubt.  Some had surely ran out completely.

"We're dead."

Even if they managed to hold out until the rain stopped - which, to be frank, would be impossible - Zigmund would be at full strength and they would all be close to death... and that was the [i]best[/i] case scenario!  There was only one path, in Zell's mind.  One way to stop Zigmund.  And there'd be only one chance at it too.

One slim chance.

He looked around and saw Fenna and MacKensie.  Fenna went to meet Zigmund as Zell tried to get over to them, limping for a couple of steps before falling and realising he was better off crawling.

"MacKensie," he called out before she too decided to run off.  He needed her badly, if his plan was to work.  When he finally scrambled his way over to her, he beckoned her to her knees, to his level, to hear his words and see his eyes.  "Zigmund is going to kill us all.  Right now he can't be touched."  He sounded like he was mentally broken, panic riddled and all over the place.  He struggled and started to control himself.  "But [i]I[/i] can kill him."  He put a hand on her shoulder, nodding his head, eyes wide.  "I can kill him but I'll only get one chance.  This sword... once per day..." he suddenly shook his head.  "Fuck all that.  [i]Trust[/i] me.  I [i]can[/i] kill him but I need to get close, and I can barely walk."

He grabbed her gauntlet, his other hand still on her shoulder.  "You can get me there.  Twelve yards.  That's how close I need to get.  Ten metres.  Like a football penalty box, you've seen it right?  The goal..." He suddenly shook his head again as he once-again cast away the need for explanation.  "Fuck.. listen.  Get me twelve yards in.   [i]Please[/i].  Zip us in there and let me go.  Twelve yards.

I trust you," he added, voice shaking as sincerity battled to overwhelm panic in his cadence and tenor.  He let go of her gauntlet and gently guided her head so their foreheads touched.  "I trust you.  Do you trust [i]me[/i]?"

A magical grapplehook gauntlet.  A teleport.  A sword that could once-per-day cut through anything.

One chance.  One roll of the dice.  One dance with the devil.