The Mercury Golem does not let anything go.

It is not, to be clear, capable of stopping, containing or mitigating the explosion. The detonation flings debris and shards in every direction. But around every shard of glass is wrapped a grasping tendril, desperately clutching to [i]this might still be useful[/i]. A kalideoscopic splash of silver spreads out and spreads thin, the shape of an anorexic giant blotting out the non-sky, shining with the polychrome glitter of a billion glass shards. Three quarters of its great spherical bulk is still intact, a cracked silver egg, a broken crystal planet.

Unbalanced, it falls. The vast mass of it, all the razor glass shards, all the gossamer thin ribbons of mercury, tumbling down. The broken sphere spills even more mercury as it rolls forwards like an overbalanced cauldron. The vast weight of it descends, more bladed hailstorm than deliberate attack. Parry this, as the proverb goes, you fucking casual.

"When your opponent uses a powerful attack," Injimo said serenely to Mayzie, raising her blade. "Enter a defensive stance and wait for your moment." She is as calm as the tea she recently drank, not a ripple on her surface. She takes a step and leaps up into the impossible curtain of glass. She goes either to certain death or to demonstrate how it is done. She knows heroics are beyond her in this moment; there is no way she could save anyone else from this storm. All she can do is make sure that they don't have to get it right on the first try.