”Next in line!”

Unlike the last two times they’d dealt with gate guards and border security, this time the Kirins were queueing in line like all the rest, instead of finding ways to circumvent the guard by hook and by crook. It was almost a novel feeling.

Of course, this being the border to Skael, the line was about as short as expected, with only a few independent merchants and one caravan queueing and awaiting inspection at the border. Skael’s infamous isolationism pushed away most curious people from approaching, with only those with either rare contacts or necessary goods typically traveling back and forth from the border. That, or mercenaries returning from abroad.

The queue came up to the Kirins’ caravan, and Izayoi waited as Esben and Eliane took the lead with what identification and papers they had. As he read them over, the guardsmen conducting the inspection just gave a brief nod of his head.

”Right, so you’re the persons of interest we’ve been demanded at to let you straight in. Move along, then. And try not to keep whatever bigwig in Solitude wants you waiting, eh? We’ll send word along, not to worry.” He ushered them through the border gate, and Izayoi blinked. Just like that, with hardly any fuss? It seemed that Skaeller spymistress had kept true to her word. A lucky break, for once on this entire journey.

The nearest village on this side of the border was still a few hours’ march, but by the time they arrived, close to sunset, Izayoi was given cause to deeply regret her earlier breath of relief: the hamlet was in a state of panic, townspeople fleeing their way.

"Blightbeasts! Blightbeasts!"
"Gods, help us!"
"The militia can't hold much longer!"

Ahead, they could see a ragtag group of village militia, armed with spears and pitchforks, working desperately to stem a tide of ravenous Blightbeasts of all shapes and sizes surging in from the south and east.

"Damn it all!" Izayoi hunched down, reaching to thumb an inch of steel from her scabbard. "Come! They'll not stem that tide for long!" She dashed forward, diving straight into the fray.

"Och, good luck, kupo!" Goug squaked in alarm, immediately starting to prod the chocobos to turn with the wagon. "I'll try not tae get eaten, while ye sort that kupo shite out!"

"Thanks, Goug. Stay safe, Goug.”

Freshly-set rime crunched beneath Rudolf's sabatons as he set off after Izayoi in short order, a blur of black and red against the pale, sinking cold of what might have been the golden hour, a few dozen leagues north. While it was a welcome change of pace that Kayliss's word was reliable enough to see them ushered through the border without undue hassle, he didn't have it in himself to be terribly surprised that their good fortune was limited to just this one stroke— his personal situation notwithstanding, they just never seemed to stray too far from trouble for very long. The nature of the beast, one could reason.

His eyes cast themselves onto the field, past the fleeing townsfolk and into the waves of blightbeasts ahead. The local militia had done a good enough job in staving the assault off that the noncombatants seemed to have gotten good distance between themselves and danger, but sure enough, his soldier's eye could see the seams beginning to fray in their ranks. They were spread too thin, even with most of the enemy ingress funneled down to the eastern and southern gates, and their discipline was wavering. One or two more surges would be all it took for them to melt to a rout. He could see it, he realized— He could see where he would tug at those threads to let them unravel. If he kept them split between these two fronts, they'd shake themselves apart as their attention kept needing to oscillate, their stress mounting against the harrowing numbers.

"I see the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."

He slammed the visor of his greathelm down and drew the bone-hilted knife from his belt, clicking his tongue as he slashed through the throat of a stray corrupted elk that had slipped through the gaps. Drawing up to the melee proper, only a few dozen strides away, he twisted his trunk to look over his shoulder and hollered, catching the eyes of the two natives most pointedly.

"The two of us can hold the eastern gateway! Eliane, Esben, can you rally the bulk of them south!? They'll listen to you a lot sooner than us!"

Amazingly, he almost found himself wishing for harsher conditions— if the landscape or rooftops had heavy enough snowfall to leave them with large drifts, they could likely have shored up some quick and dirty canalization by way of their magic on hand— chiefly, his gravity materia could have played a fair role in bringing those mounds of snow and ice down into the pathways the Skaeller Militia were trying to keep filled with something sharp.

Even if it wouldn't have cut things off, it would have helped to funnel those numbers down into something the pikemen at the eastern road could manage much more readily. If only.

His free hand reached into a pouch, and palmed the lone materia within. In lieu of using heavy snow as a barrier, he'd have to resort to an old standby—

The nearest blightbeasts to the eastern pikemen's lines stopped dead, as a field of purple sparks danced around their newly-leaden feet, suddenly themselves cutting off those surging behind them— and leaving them easy pickings for Izayoi. Rudolf stalked forward, drawing alongside the militiamen in this brief reprieve.

"My friend and I can handle this flank— There's a Commander of the Household Guard just behind us. Please follow her instructions."

In time with his clipped, hard-edged command, he drew the cursed blade from his back, all six feet of it— with that moment bought and new direction given, all that was left to do now was take up as much of this space as possible until the bests broke themselves against the wall. Few tools served this better than greatswords of this ilk, with their wide arcs of destruction— and in needing to bring this thing up to that standard...

He stepped forth—

Up and at 'em.¹

And here I was thinking you'd save up a little, after our big come-to-Etro moment. But don't let me stop you, gift birds don't get looked in the beak where we're from.

— And a familiar pillar of black fire wreathed his blade, as his feet dug into the frost before he leapt into a lunging, full-bodied swing, a pouncing sabertooth set to rip through as many of the corrupted beasts as it could.

---

---

• _{1. I can hear the subconscious thoughts too, you know. That part where you think you're telling me to "quit brooding" is convincing me I should let the next cardiac arrest, major organ failure, or whole tendon separation ride— beat whatever shame you've been convinced to lose back into you.}

Oh, blight beasts, that was… it was fine. They just had to worry about protecting a whole bunch of people again, and she didn't really have much in the way of a firm idea for contributing to… whatever plan Rudolf was cooking up. Send all the townsfolk to die fighting in one direction?

Or maybe he expected them to shape up now that people were giving them orders.

Well, she knew the assigned roll of a mage well enough in a target-rich environment, even though it wasn't one she was really suited for, she wasn't a proper black mage like Eve had been…

Not that it made a difference, none of these were individually that scary. So long as there wasn't an absolutely overwhelming tide, then the Mystrel might start to regret her indifferent approach a bit. But if it held out, this was also good experience; how was she going to work out how the really big spells worked if she didn't fully exploit the biggest ones she could do.

Sword-arm raised as nothing more than a sight to look down—

"Fira. Fira–"

Hm, now she thought about it, hopefully the militia didn't freak out about the whole mage thing? They were in Skael, and while Rudolf might be spookier, she was an easier target.

---

Skael was, unsurprisingly a fair bit colder than the warmer lands of Edren, but for Galahad it was a lot like being back in the mountains back home in Midgar. Lining for his armor and the heavy furs that Cadmon provided meant he was plenty warm as they headed into Skael, thankfully without trouble on account of Esben and Eliane. They continued their journey south past the border, smooth sailing.

Though, it'd be woefully out of the norm for the Kirins not to run into trouble eventually. The first village they came upon was already being beset by blightbeasts even before they were arrive. It appears their work was never quite finished. Izayoi took off for the fray, Rudolf not far behind. Miina fired off spells into the crowds of beasts to beat back their numbers. They were quite used to conflict with blightbeasts at this point- and each of them were proficient enough fighters in their own right to handle themselves.

Galahad leaped for the highest point in the town he could find, seeking a vantage point to better understand the battlefield- where the largest concentrations of enemy were, and which areas where the guard were faltering. With himself being among the more mobile of the group- at least as far as distance went, he would plug holes in flagging defenses where needed.

---

With some small measure of peace returned to his world after the conversation Izayoi had forced him into—peace, in this case, being less of a feeling of constantly having eyes on him from the aforementioned samurai—Esben was, perhaps, not as appreciative of the ease they had crossing the border as he should have been. Given what Kayliss had said to the Kirins, it was simply his expectation that they would get into Skael without trouble. Continue on their journey south, start to work themselves into the plans to free Solitude and restore the rightful government...

Blightbeasts besieging a village was decidedly not among the things he'd been expecting to see. That the only defenses present were the villagers themselves was worse, trying to beat the creatures back with whatever weaponry they could scrounge, intended or improvised, without even a token force from whichever lord governed them to coordinate. Izayoi dashed ahead, Rudolf hot on her heels as Galahad leapt away and Miina began firing off into the monstrous tide. "I need to figure out who is in charge of this place," he grumbled at Éliane. "This is a shameful display."

Unlike the others, he didn't dismount his chocobo and send it running along with Goug; given the motley crew they were witnessing, one of the nobility riding in like a knight come to their rescue could be enough to turn their demeanour from despair to fervor, especially when backed up with as many of the rest of them as were present. "I'll get them in place, then we can start herding these beasts where we want them, ja?"

His chocobo took off at a run, first towards the group that were staring in disbelief as Rudolf and Izayoi interposed themselves between the village and the beasts. "Eos, Selene, go to the group at the southern road, make sure they stay on their feet," he commanded the fairies that were riding along on his shoulders. They each nodded, letting go and fluttering off to the beleaguered militia. In a moment more he pulled the bird to a stop before the surprised spearmen that had yet to really do anything after what Rudolf had commanded them.

"You heard him, no standing around!" he barked at the group, drawing his sword and pointing. "Quit milling around and form up! About-face, double time, march!" Surprised as they were, they'd at least had some training—even if their facsimile of a pike square was a shoddy one, the shaken villagers came back together at his orders, turning unevenly and starting to jog to join their fellows at the southern thoroughfare. He watched them go for a moment, before calling back to Rudolf and Izayoi: "Yell if you need me or Galahad, but try to herd them all towards the southern group!"

No different than dealing with many other groups of wild animals, really; force them into one group and then start culling the herd. Confident that Chisato and Galahad would pick up the idea themselves, he turned his chocobo, following the group he'd sent running to the south.

---

The border crossing was smooth sailing, as expected, but what the group found in the next village over was something that Éliane hardly expected: blightbeats. With no military or constabulary in sight and only ragtag militia, she was starting to get a picture of her country that was very different than the way she left it only a few months ago.

There was better time to think about it later, though, and like a good Skaellan, she immediately swung into action to help her fellow countrymen. She drew her officer’s sword, holding it in the air as she remained mounted alongside Esben. Although he had beaten her in creating a rallying cry, the pink-haired Skaellan officer’s very obvious officer’s garb made for some well needed morale boost for the previously faltering militia. The presence of an actual guard commander was the sort of thing that could flip morale on its head.

“Reinforcements have arrived! Maintain your ranks!” She spoke in her command voice, projecting herself over the battlefield as she made herself as visible as possible.

She kept the blade raised up high to remain as a beacon for the villagers, even while she drew her other sword –her gunblade—and began to work some much needed gunfire into the rampaging blightbeasts. There were few times where villagers would see gunfire as a source of hope, but here was one of them.

That none of them had a gun was criminal by itself.

Slowly, the tide began to turn. Izayoi and Rudolf held the eastern gate, godspeed blade and black flame alike starting to divert the tide of Blightbeasts further south through sheer weight of the bodies piling up before them. Meanwhile, Esben and Eliane's efforts in rallying the local militia began to take effect, the levied fighters starting to do as bid now that a source of authority had made itself known.

"Thank tha gods yer here." A grizzled man bearing a pistol and munition armor grunted, nodding to Eliane as he approached during a brief lull in the battle. "Call me Lell. Militia captain, on account of bein' tha only fightin' man ta make it home in recent years. Lost tha lord's manse when they approached, think them Blightbeasts got 'em while he was out hunting. No gunpowder out here in these boonies, though. Only steel. Fallin' in under yer orders, Dame."

Bolstered by new leadership, the militia rallied, Galahad and Miina's efforts shoring up enough of their deficiencies so that they formed a solid spear wall under Eliane's orders. Sent fleeing and pursued from the east, further Blightbeasts flowed south, beginning to pile up just as Esben had planned. Chisato slipped through the ranks, sowing chaos where she could, and as she disappeared, Lell nodded to himself, positioned a pace away from Eliane while firing his pistol repeatedly into the Blightbeast horde.

"Going rather well, ain't it? Like some sort of divine miracle, just up an' having a bunch of folk show up to save tha day. Well. We can't be having that now, can we?" His voice shifted tone midsentence, pitching up higher as his aim shifted towards Eliane's back, pulling the trigger with the last of his ammunition. The shot was critical, and likely fatal in time, but not as lethal as the gunner had intended, whether it be due to simple providence on Eliane's part, or a last second reaction.

When the dust and smoke cleared, Loki looked upon her work with a dissatisfied frown, melting into the shadows just in time to avoid a furious, newly-arrived Izayoi's attempted leaping cleave.

"Damnation and hellfire! Miina, we need you, immediately! Eliane is downed!"

As if on cue, a furious roar carried across the field. The Blightbeast horde, which had previously been on the verge of outright dissolution, seemed to take heart and vigor from the cry, suddenly redoubling their charge in earnest. In contrast, the militia saw their newly arrived commander fall, and began to waver, the ranks loosening. Their fear tripled as the source of the roar made itself known, lumbering towards the front of the field from the rear of the pack, Blightbeasts turned or outright tackled aside by its rush.

A titanic canine bearing wicked horns and a great mane sallied forth, Blight oozing from open gashes on its sides. A Behemoth, fallen to the Blight.

"Hold, damn you!" Izayoi bellowed in response, a flick of her blade sending shockwaves of wind crashing into the horde. "The first man to abandon his duty and leave his peers and family to the Blight will be the first to die by my blade!" Her gaze searched the town's tallest buildings until she found Galahad, crying up to him.

"We need to charge! The Behemoth must die before it and the horde overwhelm the militia! Esben!" Izayoi shifted her attention towards the other Skaeller. "Can you still maintain order here?"

"Oh, c-come on," the mage's response was more… annoyed, than anything, even as she moved immediately into position, "R-Running away again?"

This time she hadn't even achieved anything except to waste their time! And ruin Eliane's clothes, once Miina finished with this. And where was the fun in having a hot lady trying to kill you if she wasn't hanging around for it? Could have replaced her with anyone and it would have been fine, and being ignored after trying to stab her and then exploding the building just felt unfair…

Maybe she thought Elly was going to be important for this or something?

Meh.

"Cure," the red mage started, just wanting to staunch the bleeding long enough that she could address the injury properly. Just repeatedly applying Cura would no doubt close it up and get the gunner back into fighting shape with relative ease, but the way it would do that… maybe it was something that full white mages trained to avoid, or maybe it was just accepted for expediency, but forcing that sort of healing just lead to… compromises. Like leaving the wound full of shrapnel, or awkward scarring. It was battlefield medicine through and through, and whilst they might be in a battle, it wasn't as if Miina cared about the fates of any of the militia. No, no, much better to make sure their party member didn't have to deal with any lingering pain or loss of functionality in the long term.

But doing that with just white magic… oh, that have been tricky, wouldn't she have to force the injury to not so much heal as regenerate back to its original state and force the bullet out in the process? Tricky, and she could probably do it, but why not use the skills she already had? She didn't need to leave everything absolutely blemish free (at least, not right now, maybe she could do something later), so being a bit rougher with both the black and white magic…

"T-This might hurt," Miina offered, although… hm, compared to being shot, probably not. Or maybe she was in shock? As long as she didn't move too much. Still, it was a fair warning, literally burning away anything that shouldn't be there before forcing the healing in the affected area inside-out wasn't the… nicest sensation.

At least it made a nice pair of glows around her hands, even if you ignored the aether itself. Fire and healing were quite complementary like that.

His blood stopped and went cold.

Rudolf had been kept well busy by the task of stemming the tide of Blightbeasts to the east, his whirling greatsword the space-denying anvil to Izayoi's lightning quick hammer. His insistence on those countless late nights spent training, moving, hammering weight and momentum into his frame were paying hefty dividends here; were he less used to the weight of the blackened plates that cloaked him he would tire far too early, were he less diligent in maneuvering the blade, always so impotent with only the curse laid atop its nimble steel, he would have doubtless left gaps a corrupted beast could slip through.

But everything clicked. All elements fired in concerto, each swing carried power into the next, and he was able to keep up with his own output, free to focus on holding his ground where before he may have needed to scurry away, for fear of his hide being punched through. The eastern flank was swiftly piling with carcasses as he forged that insurmountable wall of steel and flame, shoving the final wave back enough for Izayoi to give chase. Her katana flashed through the dying daylight, the fangs of a wolf at the heels of an elk. Inescapably familiar. The shape of so many engagements that featured his family name, come to think of it.¹

Starting off at a trot after her once the last remnants of those that had stayed at his side were cut down, Rudolf only noticed something was awry when he saw Izayoi veer off hard to the left without warning— shouting for Miina. Eliane had been downed? Was that not the report of her gunblade—

And then, the roar hit his bones, and his eyes went wide within the shadows of his greathelm.

Thundering footsteps, smashing into the frozen earth.

His breath caught in his throat, and despite the warming cloak gifted by his master, he felt a chill deeper than winter inside his gut.

A back lined with long, black, and evil spines, jutting out from a mane of coarse wire around the shoulders and running all the way to the tail, each one as sharp and deadly as the fangs, the claws, the horns atop its' brow.

Beneath the clamor of the battle, the maille by his joints jangled, ever so slightly. His knife shifted out of time, swaying when it needed stilling— Tremors. He knew of this beast, of what it did to the unworthy, of its high status among all the monsters the cruel world had forged to test man. And that knowledge filled him with tremors, quaking fear, even with all he had experienced. It brought him to a halt— task and duty driving him forward, but raw, wise instinct pulling him back.

A powerful frame, easily the size of a house or more, knocking lesser blightbeasts aside like children discarded toys. Muscle rippled from beneath its fur, each limb a redwood trunk, strong enough that even mighty dragons scarcely ventured down from their mountain perches to challenge it. Its baleful gaze was the last sight of so, so many warriors, all stronger than the tiny man that had first answered king Leonhart's call to arms by half at least. A scourge of the earth. The King of the Badlands. A name only uttered in hushed tones, the type that reverberated inside Rudolf's greathelm before being torn apart by the wind.

"Behemoth..."²

It was true.

He wanted to run.

Even when he had foolishly believed he would be living out his days as an auxiliary hireling, he would never have dared join one of these hunts. That way courted death, more than any other the swordsman village ventured. The mightiest among them, the elites of the clan— it was them alone, and never an assured return. Hunting parties of two or three were considered the minimum safety net when word of one becoming a problem made its' way through their gates.

The same village that didn't blink twice, for comparison, at sending its' initiates out alone to stalk and kill tigers as a coming-of-age ritual. That attributed their blazing red hair to the Himstian tradition of mantling their crowns with the blood of strong beasts. That he had watched, a dozen separate times, tell men younger than he little more than "Have fun!", when they said they wanted to run to the North and join the war— to taste the Ospreyans' famed swordplay for themselves.

It was like asking himself to face down Leviathan or Ultima, all over again. Even knowing he had, seeing a Blighted version of a beast that he had so long know he wouldn't dream of taking on...

Damn it all. He really, really would have loved to be able to run right now.

"We need to charge! The Behemoth must die before it and the horde overwhelm the militia!" Came the bellow of the Limbtaker, furiously rallying everyone she could in the face of this horrifying monstrosity— and she was, of course, right on money.

His legs began to move once more, breaking the rime beneath as he maintained his original course, looping around to hit the southern fron from the side. He had no "Elites" to pass the buck to in the here and now— whatever his thoughts said, the whole reason they were in this mess to begin with was because they, the Warriors of Light, were the only elites available. It was either them... or these militiamen, who had proven no hope against foes much more mundane.

He grit his teeth as he stormed into the fray. Each stride that carried him closer seemed to double the thing's bulk in his vision. Each roar shook his bones deeper, deeper, until he was sure even that shadowy demon that settled aside his soul felt the Behemoth's power and fury³. No mistaking it— he was just as terrified as they were, as the smallfolk that had been fleeing their homes to begin with were. If he had to take this thing down, where did he even start?

At the precipice of the Blightbeasts' mass, already past the strewn bodies of those knocked aside by the Behemoth, he gathered the strength in his legs. The open wounds were out of the picture— seething with blight as they were, he didn't dare plunge a blade into them for fear of suffering the same fate as Arton, wherever he was. To say nothing of how they seemed to be doing nothing to sap the Behemoth's strength.

There was one answer to that question— he'd asked it dozens of times about as many things— that had always stuck with him. An old, old memory.

"Nah, that's just what you do when you're scared of someone you're fighting. I know Otto puts the fear of Etro into me..."

"Before it decides to bend the aether and drop a Comet on our heads!" he bellowed, before springing forth in a mighty leap, sailing in from the Behemoth's flank. With those wounds off-limits, he had to forge his own path through the thick, leathery hide and deal real, appreciable damage. And with the Behemoth's size, that was no easy task. "We have to leave it no room for reprisal!"

Imre's head lolled back over to face Rudolf, a wolfish grin plastered over his features, dagger-sharp even at eleven.

"...so I try and hit him as hard as I can right out the gate, before he gets the chance."

Obsidian sparks flashed again as he drove the bone-hilted dagger deep, with gnawing, burning weight behind it, to try and find purchase in the thick sinew of it's back, just past the joint of the shoulder. The sturdy construction of the rondel was designed for exactly this, in addition to punching through the armor of men— against massive beasts, it served as a vital grappling point, like a whaler's harpoon.⁴

His greatsword blazed black in turn, painting a disk of inky flame as he tried to use whatever leverage his first strike could muster to bring it straight down through the mane, and into the scourge's thick neck. If he could sever the spinal cord in one go, there was no way it'd be able to fight back at all— let alone turn its Naturalborn Magic against them.

---

---

• _{1. Probably why Esben figured it was what you were going for to begin with, rather than contenting yourself with a static defense meatgrinder.}
• _{2. Oh, see, like that.}
• _{3. I get what we're going for here, but the resonance through the steel of his armor is already enough. Sidenote, I've taken the liberty of abrading away the minor scuffs this thing collects through travel and in the so-far inconsistent moments where it actually has come between an infected wolf's teeth and my host's skin— I believe in looking fashionable. It makes you fight better. And your enemies see a good polish and fight worse, because they think not looking fucked up means your armor's never seen use. A lot of reasons to keep doing what I'm doing, all for the low price of sometimes having a few cinders fly off.}
• _{4. Just don't lose this one like the lance. You'll be in a real funk if you have to go through this whole country without your comfort knife.}

---

"Close order! Charge your pike!" With Éliane there to keep the peasant militia hopeful and firing shots into the rushing beasts, Esben barked out orders to keep them moving like as well-trained of a lot as possible. The villagers settled in relatively well; those among them with some actual experience leading the movements, lifting their actual spears up while those making do with pitchforks and sharpened poles copied them as best they could. With the eastern road handled by Rudolf and Izayoi, the rag-tag militia was able to block out the southern after it came together in one force.

He rode around them, keeping their flanks clear of any straggling beasts that weren't sufficiently cowed by the wall of spikes facing front, pushing the troop forward so that they weren't hampered by their own homes pressing in at their sides. With some semblance of order restored to their formation the old heads among them started to take more of the immediate leadership into their own hands, cutting back on the amount Esben was having to command them.

He fell back for a moment to survey the formation, Eos and Selene drawing back with him. He could hear one of the men of the village chatting with Éliane, and frowned as he looked over towards the pair. It was nice enough to have another gun to join the fray, he would have sworn that he hadn't heard any gunfire as they approached the village—nor had he noticed the man when they rode in to try and rally the small militia.

He turned his chocobo, walking towards the pair. "Selene," he grunted, getting the fairy's attention. She fluttered up next to his head, looking over at the chatting pair curiously. "You didn't see that man before, did you?" She shook her head. "I don't trust—grab her, now!"

Æther slightly obscured the pink-haired woman's form as 'Lell' raised his pistol, face morphing as 'he' did, before before her form shot off to the side in a blur. Esben dropped from his mount, catching Éliane as she was pulled to his side in an instant by Selene's power. Too late; drops of blood from the shot turned into a faint mist through the magical translocation, and as he caught Éliane his hand felt the tattered edge of her jacket where the bullet found an exit.

He lowered her gently to the ground, heedless of Alex slipping off into the shadows once again despite Izayoi's attempt to catch her. "Eos, help Miina!" he commanded his other floating familiar, the faint green-glowing fairy settling in just as Miina slid in next to him. He pushed back, on his feet again in an instant.

As Izayoi growled out her threats, he grabbed one of the younger villagers in the militia, pushing them back towards the rest even as one of the older ones within—the young man's father or uncle, maybe—yelled at them to hold their place. "Close order!" he barked out again. "About-face, trail your pike, forward ten paces then charge to the rear!"

With a couple of the militiamen shouting out in tandem "Turn around, march, turn again!" the body of the pseudo-pike square turned, retreating back a ways towards the town and turned again. Now that they were forced back on the defensive, the buildings to either side would be less of a hindrance than when they were trying to take the fight back to the Blighted animals. They resumed position, lifting their weapons to be ready for the oncoming charge of beasts as Esben leapt back upon his chocobo, riding the bird around and keeping any of the beasts from coming up and nipping at the militia's heels. "Bringers up, double the front!"

The rear rank of the makeshift formation pushed forward through the body, much like the first being some of the only ones with actual spears in their hands, placing the most experienced of the villagers at the front. "Hold position! If you have to retreat, fall back to the dame commander and form circle!"

"Aye!" the forward two ranks chorused, the remainder echoing them with shakier voices. He turned back towards the Behemoth, drawing his pistol as he watched Rudolf lunge forward to sink his dagger into it. "Selene, get up there—they're going to need to move their best to fight this thing, ja?" The purple-glowing fairy sped on forward, ready to let Rudolf and Izayoi reap the benefits of her light as he drew his pistol, firing a shot at the beast's legs, well below where Rudolf was.

---

Blightbeasts were manageable, but a behemoth? Now things were starting to get ridiculous. "Where the hell did that even come from?!" Galahad demanded of no one in particular. Esben was organizing the militia lines, as Rudolf and Izayoi attacked. Izayoi bade him charge, the behemoth had to be stopped before it overran the militia.

Galahad took a breath, and focused his halberd. He couched his legs and arms, settling the halberd into position. The steeple he had been standing on cracked and broke as he kicked off of it, rocketing forward like a man sized bullet as he lunged at the beast, hurling his halberd at it.

Steel made contact first, followed by greaves as Galahad kicked off of the behemoth and went into the sky, dragging his weapon with him. As he reached the crest of his jump, Galahad summoned as much lightning as he could muster. Electricity cracked down the weapon and into his gauntlets, armor glinting in the cold sky. "Strike it down!" Galahad bellowed as he loosed his halberd downwards like a lightning bolt, his own armored form following after it.

There was no time for fear. For doubt. For anything past ingrained experience and raw, feral instinct. Izayoi surged forward with a wordless roar, her blade poised to cut at what would be a tendon in the Behemoth's forearm, even as Rudolf attempted to sever its spine and Galahad came crashing down as a bolt from the blue. For its part, the Behemoth bristled, its neck narrowly twisting to save its spinal cord, roaring in pain from blackflame cutting into it. One meaty limb reached up to grapple Rudolf, the other backhanding Izayoi away with brutal force after her blade sank into said limb.

As Galahad and his halberd crashed down into its back, the Behemoth buckled and roared in agony, squeezing Rudolf once before hurling him aside. It howled again, this time flopping over and rolling along the ground once, twice, thrice, aiming to crush Galahad between its back and the dirt. It came up on all four legs, bleeding profusely from several new wounds but dealing proportionately savage damage to its three new foes.

Izayoi picked herself up from a distance away, propping herself up with her sword as a crutch and spitting blood due to her broken ribs. It was only thanks to a quick barrier from Selene that neither herself, Rudolf, nor Galahad were completely out of the fight as of yet, even as injured as they were.

Even as Esben's bullet plinked off of its hind leg, the Behemoth roared once more, a pulse of aether in its mouth surging up into the sky and breaking apart, creating a swarm of heavensent stone that came crashing down into the militia. Not the Comet spell recorded in Sagramori archives, but a lesser prelude to it. Cursing even as she forced her body to leap out of the way of a few stray meteorites, Izayoi dropped to one knee, a hand still clutching her midsection as the great, Blighted beast drew itself up on its hind legs and howled its rage to the heavens.

His teeth grit, as hot metal rods of pain jammed their way through his body and he tumbled, end over end, through the frost. He had felt the now-defiled steel groan within the mighty beast's grip, as it had ripped him free of its back before he could wrench his body around for another desperate cleave to the vertebrae— but if it was proof of concept he wanted for the pursuit of proper armoring, he now had it in spades.

For all the uncomfortable noise, the plating held up, without warping out of shape or crumpling in on him.¹ With a Behemoth's claws and crushing grip conducting the test, there were far too few guarantees in the world of that much. It was ample testament to the quality he'd ended up sourcing. However...

Wrenching himself to his feet, Rudolf felt his left arm spasm, the joint of his elbow all liquid flame even as a few fingers stubbornly clung to his dagger, coated a bright, angry red that had painted streaks across the rime. He'd ripped a part of the Behemoth free with him, evidently, when it had ripped the intrepid warrior off its back in turn— but the titanic force that it had mustered to protect itself was, as you would expect, a horrid idea to contest.²

He drew a breath. Not the worst he'd fought through— ribs were certainly sore, and the interstitial muscles unhappy with their attempted pulverizing, to put it mildly—

A sabaton broke the ground, as he suppressed a pained scream and launched himself forward, as the shower of meteors descended from parts unknown. Weaving between those that came close and letting the smaller ones bounce off the bulk of his greatsword, he clicked his tongue— had only he not burned down Shield to dust, he could have cast it over the militia, sparing them, Miina, Elly, and Esben all the onslaught. Nor could he muster Svalinn— so failing all that...

A scattering of purple sparks, notably weaker than those that had piled up the blighted dead on the eastern front, danced around the bulk of the meteor storm's mass, causing them to slow in midair, almost hanging as if suspended in honey for a brief moment before the world resumed itself. Were the puprle orb at its full capacity, he surely could have caught the whole thing and pelted the Behemoth with it in reprisal, but this was as much aether as the stone had left to give for the day³. A hurried stopgap by any measure, but one that would hopefully make a crucial difference—

—And buy him time to properly interpose himself.

He skidded to a halt in front of the Skaeller's lines, took a rickety breath, and charged, throwing a globule of black flame ahead of him towards the maw of the beast as it roared to herald the rising moon.

---

---

• _{1. Editor's Note: Don't make a habit of this. I really don't care for feeling my vacation house do that.}
• _{2. You're not gonna be happy when the adrenaline wears off. Best you don't completely take stock of how that arm is doing while you're still willing to put power through that busted tendon. Oops. And the broken fingers. Oops.}
• _{3. So, because my essence is so spread out like this and I've so greedily intertwined myself with my vessel's will, corpus, and equipment, I actually can nudge that battery's switch from off to on if he asks me nicely enough. I can't break the thing down the way we tore all the potential energy out of Shield without him to give it direction and focus on maintaining the activation while I go in and deconstruct, so that's why you see a tiny stream where a river used to run— to put it in idiot terms, I can't cheat unless he offers to cover for me. If I'm doing remote work, I work with what I'm given only.}

---

With the help of the Kirins, and a visible Skaelan presence in the form of her livery and command, the fight against the blightbeasts was quickly turning back in their favor. Of course, that’s when things obviously went to all hell. She had been put off by the militia captain’s idle talk during the battle. The pistol and his gunfire had been a help… but Esben hadn’t been the only one to notice that it had started only just now, although it didn’t rouse her suspicion until it was far too late.

Just as she began to move to address his strange words, she was suddenly yanked by what she belatedly realized was Selene, but it was still too late. With a thud she gasped, spitting out blood as she felt a round hit her in the back. It felt like a static shock run through her body, lancing with pain, with all the strength immediately fleeing her body.

Not a good sign…

Already falling from her chocobo, she caught a fleeting glimpse of a retreating Loki, the injury grave enough that darkness was already slipping in from the edges of her vision. Éliane would have never expected the traitor to turn up here, of all places. “F-fuck, she got me…” the pink-haired officer sputtered out. In what felt like a flash, Esben was already at her side. “Just… a flesh wound,” she managed to say, flashing him a wry smile. “Keep in… the fight…!” she ordered with the last of her strength, before unconsciousness finally claimed her and she fell limp in his arms.

She didn't really have to look at Elly while this was going on; magic had its own kind of proprioception to work with and she couldn't see inside the wound anyway. It meant she had plenty of time to watch Behemoth batter through the rest of the Kirins with concerning ease.

There was going to be so much healing in her future. Well, provided everyone survived this; she didn't much appreciate her odds of healing a dead body.

But that meant she had to do a little more than just heal their incapacitated gunner – right when she would've been most useful, typical – and the Mystral pulled away from her healing efforts for a moment to let the little fairy take over. Hm, first thing was to keep any of the incidental comets from landing on her head.

"Shell," it wouldn't hold up to the full thing – she'd have to grab Elly and run, if that came out, but at least it would be interesting to watch how it worked (again, assuming survival) – but it would deal with the current predicament. As for actually contributing…

Berserk had its temptation, they were basically just attacking the monster trying to make it stick. More force and it would be much easier to kill, right? Well, putting it on someone who was already injured was just asking for trouble, and that would probably just pick up the Blight… best not to risk it, especially as it might get her in trouble. No, no, if she only wanted to help indirectly - and not get immediately attacked herself – then that left one option as normal.

"Haste," Rudolf, Galahad, Izayoi, Esben, that quiet little bunny… there, everyone looped in.

Back to healing.

---

It was only sheer luck the ground was soft enough to not crush him instantly, and Galahad was able to spring off of the beast before its third roll crushed him with its weight. It certainly hurt a good amount though, as Galahad staggered to his feet, his armor plating bent and buckling on some places. Though he should be glad that nothing important was broken. Luckily- or perhaps unluckily, the motion ended up driving Galahad's halberd deeper into the Behemoth's neck.

As meteors began to fall, a storm of not so small rocks, Galahad found himself diving out of the way of one, before Miina's haste spell took hold. He instantly felt light, faster, and well, hasted.

"Excellent, Miina!" Galahad breathed in relief as he used the spell to more easily dodge out of the way of the oncoming rocks.

"Esben!" Galahad called out for their rogue turned summoner. He pointed at his Wyrmfang, embedded in the Behemoth's neck. "Lightning rod!"

My presence has been almost entirely erased.

Considering the progression of the fight, this has been my best option. The most ideal course of action for one of my skillset, in order to provide absolute benefit to my allies.

The pattern of my breathing, of my movement, everything has been tilted in a direction that allows me to nearly vanish even before retreating from view.

I suck in a slow, deep breath through my teeth. Disengaging like this has allowed me to observe the distorted, monstrous behemoth's movements, its shape, its weaknesses---

Everything I could not have done until now. Even in my concealed state, Haste has affected me as well.

Perfect.

At this moment, the most ideal time has come.

Not that it is truly perfect, as such things rarely exist. But it is the ideal I have been preparing myself for.

Those soft, fleshy wounds, the monster's distraction at being turned into a living lightning rod---

I have been given the best opportunity I could possibly ask for.

The warmth surges up from my core, flowing along the veins from my heart and outwards. It surges through my arm like fresh blood, to my fingertips as I step forward. In a moment, my concealment will be erased. My techniques will no longer hold, and I will be in full view.

So I will merely have to ensure there is no opportunity to stop me.

My eyes fix ahead as I lean forward and raise my sword. The warmth flows to the very tips of my fingers and surges outwards, flooding into my sword. It externalizes, red and orange light rushing along my blade and igniting it, burning, searing the air. The heat washes over my skin, carrying my hair. I pour more and more of myself into it. I am no longer hidden, but that no longer matters.

I will deliver a decisive strike, and by helping to end this combat ensure my allies can fight on.

This abominable, stinking thing will die.

The muscles in my legs tense, tightening, coiling---

And all at once releasing, sending me hurtling forward in an instant. The heat from my burning sword washes over the earth as I pass. I can almost see the edges of my sleeves being singed.

The point of my katana is aimed squarely at the beast.

I'll pierce it through, then release the flames into its corrupted form all at once---!

---

Resuming a purely defensive position, the militia was at least able to hold out well against the beasts while the other Kirins dealt with the Behemoth. Until, of course, the monster decided to try and rain hell down upon them. He watched the blast of æther as it arced into the sky, cursing under his breath. "Take cover!" he commanded the small militia, his voice carrying over the village elders who had begun to take control of their fellows as the group got more confident in their defense.

The back ranks broke first, many falling back into the city, towards where Miina and Eos were busy stabilizing Éliane. Those in the front covered their retreat from the remaining blighted wildlife that were throwing themselves against the wall of spears, only trying to separate at the last moment. Being the older members of the village, even with Rudolf's help not all of them were fast enough to escape unharmed. Thanks to their attempt to cover, some few were crushed outright as the cascade resumed its course, with multiple more being wounded and having to limp or drag their way back towards the rest, or into the emptied buildings to either side.

Esben's chocobo danced between the falling rocks, with himself low to its back as they barely avoided getting brained themselves. The bird skidded to a stop as he heard Galahad calling out, pointing at his halberd lodged in the Behemoth's hide. Calling for Ramuh's aid in the fight. With Éliane lying unconscious in the street, being tended to by Miina and Eos, while Selene had only barely kept Rudolf, Izayoi, and Galahad himself from meeting a certain death.

The fairies, or the Eidolon, he couldn't have both. Maybe Cid or Zacharias could have, but he wasn't nearly the caliber of summoner that either man was. Leaving him to choose between staying on the defensive himself, hoping that Miina's haste aongside Selene and Eos would be enough to keep the rest alive, let them regroup and lick their wounds, or bet on a massive attack hoping it would be enough to put the beast down.

It had come to them wounded. It had suffered more at their hands. But Galahad, armour bent and dented, would be struggling to move before long. He could already see Izayoi struggling, spitting blood. For all that Rudolf looked to be in one piece, after having been thrown across the field he was dripping blood as he ran—not to mention that he had no clue how well or poorly Éliane was faring. Leaving the three least suited to such a head-on fight as the only ones who'd even be capable of it before long, something Chisato was already taking to heart as she charged the beast as well.

"How distasteful," he muttered to himself. For all they'd been able to do it, it had paid them back in kind, and may yet manage worse; none of the bets he had available seemed good ones to make. He spared one quick glance back at the barrier that Miina had erected over herself and Éliane, frowning as he holstered his pistol and pulled out his journal. Eos and Selene vanished in an instant as he ceased maintaining their presence, reaching out towards the Eidolon of Lightning. Ramuh! We need your aid again!

So unseemly, Warrior of Light. Need we have this conversation again?

We're too hurt to waste time with this—strike this Behemoth down, Ramuh!

Ah yes, I see thee now, child. A moment...

Clouds swirled above the battlefield like when the Kirins had stumbled into Ramuh's grove out in the Dranan jungle, darkening within moments to portend a dreadful storm. Wisps of æther drew in towards the epicenter, coaelscing into the form of the timeless lightning sage, a stern set to his brow as he pointed his staff at the wounded Behemoth, raising his free hand to direct the energies at his call—



And the air split with a window-shattering crack as he unleashed his Judgment Bolt, the stream of energy crossing the distance nigh-instantenously to pour into the Behemoth's body through the polearm jammed into its neck.

Rudolf's glob of flame choked the Behemoth, distracting it just in time for Galahad's halberd to find its mark and for Chisato to strike true. Her katana plunged deep into the Blighted beast's flesh before its store of aether detonated, releasing firey gouts straight into its body directly.

The Behemoth bellowed and writhed in agony, a hastily-formed fist punching Chisato to send her flying with enough force to break bone without external mitigation. In that moment, Ramuh struck, bringing the judgment of eld crashing down upon the creature. When the smoke and ash cleared, the Behemoth could be seen gasping for breath, clearly on its last legs.

It charged forward in a last, desperate ploy, great bounds sending it barreling towards the dragoon that had thrown its weapon away. Just before it could bear down upon Galahad, Izayoi intercepted it from the flank, a spinning, whirling battojutsu draw lopping off the fist it was about to bring down in a hammer blow. Even as the samurai landed in a crash, disgracefully tumbling against the ground in pain from her injured chest, the Behemoth collapsed as well, sliding past Galahad as Blighted blood spurted from its now hand-less limb.

With one last defiant roar, the Behemoth released a pulse of aether from its mouth, surging into the air while its creator breathed its last. From the sky came a flaming boulder, descending at a rapid pace while aimimg to crash into the densest concentration of life available: the militia, having managed to hold the Blightbeasts long enough for them to begin to disperse and rout with the death of their mightiest.

Looking up into the sky, the only reason Izayoi didn't scream in frustration was out of fear of aggravating her broken ribcage. Instead, she pushed herswlf to her feet with a determined scowl and raised her blade skyward with both hands. Wind began to rotate and surge around it in a repeat of her strike that split the sea weeks ago. Her intent was obvious: shatter the Comet before it could descend and cause untold casualties. But her wounds were clearly hampering her: the winds were building slowly, too slowly to accumulate in full before the Comet fell.

There was only one solution apparent: throw everything they had at the Comet before it could make impact. With its size, it was already too late to flee; the shockwave from its landing would cause untold devastation for miles around.

It wasn't the roar that got the mage's attention, but the sudden release of aether; the Mystral's head immediately swung around to gaze skywards at the oncoming Comet. That… that would be a problem. It also meant that she'd have to put aside her healing for now, but… that was fine, so long as she didn't get too jostled about it would be perfectly fine, and Miina was confident that she had at least managed to get the bullet. Everyone else was going to be out of luck on getting any immediate recovery, though.

Static defences were out; even if she pumped everything she had into those… well, she'd need a lot of time, a working Shield materia, and to watch whatever Rudolf had been doing to even try and stop it, and it wouldn't really do to just protect herself. If she dumped the entire rest of her reserves into it, she might be fine on her own, but that wouldn't do the rest of them any good. And she did care about the Kirins.

Also, she'd be stuck in an impact crater in Skael with no food. That would be decidedly problematic; no matter who picked her up after that.

The easy thing to do would be to just dump everything into… what, some bastardised recreation of Flare or whatever Eve had shown off that one time? She didn't have the strength for that, even if she hadn't been haphazard with clearing out the crowd when this entire mess had started. Miina could write that out immediately. Since she couldn't overcome it on raw force, that discounted any other direct spell.

But… yes, Izayoi had the right idea. Well, the start of it? Even if she could pull it together in time, something that could cut open the sea was too diffuse for a single descending rock… it was possible, probable even, that the samurai would try to adjust it, but…

The winds were changing too slowly.

Miina slid in behind Izayoi, hands loosely by her sides. Mmm, yes, being at the eye of the storm was exactly where she wanted to be, and now just start to feed in… almost everything.

"L-Leave the c-control to me," If Izayoi could just focus on pulling from the materia, Miina was more than happy to manipulate what was there, and the magic was already intimately familiar. Faster, and faster, and tighter. This didn't need to change the entire skies, she wanted to pull all of this in to coincide with the slash – whenever Izayoi was ready. Was there time? Well, there was only one way to find out, but maybe they could focus an entire hurricane into a single lance of wind.

…

And if that damn spy was still around after, she had enough for one spell.