>>5331695It's so utterly, blissfully quiet as each of your twelve Joyous spawn four duplicates of their own, your now sixty-strong platoon standing at your back as you collectively stare down the Vagrant.
As still as stone, he waits for you.
You dont keep him waiting long.
Your original dozen surge past you in a flurry of fluffy ears and shining blades. A foolishly straightforward assault, until the other forty-eight activate forty-eight instances of Oxygenic Artillery, all at once. What was only a second prior a calm, fragile silence is shattered by four dozen shotgun blasts of hyper-compressed air, sending a swathe of your sword field hurtling towards your foe, covering your vanguard in a sheet of spinning, fractured blades.
And, with no fanfare, one of the legion slips to the side, air shimmering as they go unseen and silent as the grave.
A hundred parries flicker with just as many sparks, a wall of stars busting to life as the Vanguard deflects your distraction in time to meet your first wave of doppelgangers head-on. The forty-seven at your back aren’t finished yet—as the Vagrant’s first sweep claves a third of your strike force in half, the majority scatter among the field of calcite swords, yanking them one after another from the ground and flinging them to you. One by one, you snatch them from the air and merge with the one at your hip, its power snowballing into the avalanche you hope can turn the tide.
C’mon. C’mon, LOOK. You need him to look at what you’re-
Another terrible sweep, a perfect arc that wipes the last of your dirty dozen off the map, and there it is. He locks eyes with you briefly—just long enough for him to not see when one of your frantic Joyous darts between the two of you, disguising your slight-of-hand—before his gaze snaps to the weapon at your side as it shimmers, then fades from sight. He sweeps his eyes across the battlefield with perceptions sharpened by years of conflict. He sees the discrepancy, the hint of a plan in what’s missing. Two unknowns now prey on his mind—the length of your blade and your deadly shadow, skulking just out of sight. His brow furrows, eyes narrowed as he weighs the threats at hand.
And then-
He lunges at the same time as you. Him, with his impossibly powerful build and an edge still sharp after countless eons. You, a legion, swarming with honed skills and unbreakable defiance.
Both of which you learned from the best.
With a roar like an army descending into hell, you and your Joyous loose a deafening battle cry bolstered by the might of your Lexicon, the arcane words spurring you forward with untold speed and strength. Face to face, blade to blade you meet him.
He can’t see your sword. He can’t see the clone. The Vagrant’s attentions are split.
And with a swing of his sword, so are you.
>>LIFE’S DEATHGRIP—ACTIVATED(Keep Smiling)
