[center][h1]Phoebe Parnallos Palation
[/h1][/center]

Spirits were released, formed and molded into a shape, a individual ran at great speeds and magic energy.

Mhm, it’d take quite a while for him to even get close to the castle. But it could be a problem.

Phoebe was incredibly confident, held no fear. “Mhm, I wanted to watch how Rider did things but I guess I have to take care of this.”

So the sun took forth another arrow and sang.

It was not as if Phoebe was idle as  the other master revealed his object, or prepared the magecraft to change his body. Already another powerful arrow was mostly ready. The distance that proved such a burden for Minoru was in a way his protection preventing him from being shot down as he prepared such a thing. However at the same time it also meant that Phoebe took the route of simply taking the time to prepare a higher count spell.


If the earlier shot had been a volley that turned into a shelling attack that blew holes in tthe ground and hunted down the targets mercilessly while hounding them into each other, setting the stage for Riders attack, even if those shots were merciless bullets that aimed to kill and surely would have struck down an average magus as mere “herding” strikes.

Then this one was…

This one was coiled on itself and built up in a focused condensed way. The magic energy brimming with the potent force of Phoebe aimed at its target and so those fingers let loose letting fly a smiting sunbeam as the man burst into motion. However.

It was not the rushing man that was the target. It was the bundle of spirits formed and molded into a shape, into a mold. 

Indra was shot, struck down with what served as its core being struck through. The pinpoint accuracy against this secondary target was frightfully merciless, eyes that could glimpse further than mere sight, and knowledge directed by prophecy grasping where to strike and unravel it.

Even if it was a mass of spirits, the moment they were molded into a shell, into a familiar or existence of a singular existence then it held a core, a lynchpin to its existence. For humans it was a brain, to vampires the heart, for servants and all sorts of spirits a spiritual core and even gods held a divine core. No ghost, no familiar, and  no mass was an  exception.

In a battle where the herd was not with Phoebe then it was best to undermine any boons that the enemy was attempting to place. On top of that it was no small amount of spirits prepared quite clearly. The enemy had a large weakness in his attempt to be flexible, to be malleable. He did not prepare the spirits and have created familiars for he wished to create them as needed.

However that meant that he had to put them together in a more incomplete matter than crafting a proper familiar. It meant that he could not bring forth any great familiars of great age and careful work. It was much easier to strike them down as they rose. It was much easier to strike him as he prepared his creations. The fact that he had to bring such things and prepare them meant that losing such a mass of materials so immediately would be a loss for him now and in the long run that could not so easily be recovered.

That is why Phoebe waited for the right moment, the start of his charge as if making the sunbeam arrow the gun that signaled the mans sprint.

The second arrow was prepared and aimed at the slowed and now alone master.

He began chanting, so did Phoebe.

The magic circles around Phoebe changed as the arrow prepared focused on  power and distance. That is to say, a divine decree of the distance between  man and god. The cursed arrow became one soaked with  the distortion that this man would be pushed away, repelled from Phoebe as it aimed, and grasping his movements, grasping his flow, fired.

It crashed into him, it burned into him. It was enough to rip through a car with its heat and power. But more than that it buckled his charge if he survived. Yes, he’d surely be repelled, and his approaches to the walls would surely become easier to see, easier to grasp. For he was cursed, and the oracle grasped fate.

“This isn’t a fight~

You’re just trying to get here without dying~”

[@GOATPlumber]