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“I’ll leave you guessing as I beat you senseless.” You answer, too fed up at this point to fish for information or attempt diplomacy. “Come on Rushorou, we’re taking him down.”
“How cheeky.” Wukong remarked as he pawed at one of his remaining patches of fur attempting to create an item of some sort, but he was displeased to see it quickly crumble into ash. You suppose his ability to use his hairs to create clones and items stops working so well when they’re all burnt up. “Whatever, your Servants will stand down once I show them your unconscious and broken bodies.”
“Not gonna happen.” Rushorou said as he rose to his feet, prompting you to advance toward Wukong with him.
Wukong reacts by backpedaling a little, then grabbing Fyodor’s dagger with his foot. He tosses it into the air, catching and flourishing it in his right hand before noting, “The weight-distribution is off, Master.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Fyodor sighs as he stumbles behind his Servant with Kiara’s help.
You swing your mace as a probing attack to either sunder the dagger or force Wukong into Rushorou’s reach. He opts for the latter, parrying your ally’s swings without much effort. You try to flank him to get a hit in, but his ability to keep at just the right distance stops you from making any progress, as does his agility in repositioning himself such that either you or Rushorou is constantly getting in the other’s way. You need to control his movements somehow.
Fortunately, it quickly dawns on you that his maneuvers are geared toward diverting you away from his Master. If you were to just switch targets, the burned-up doppelganger would have no choice but to stop you at any cost. As you run back toward Fyodor, you hear Wukong curse under his breath and hop around Rushorou to obstruct you, cleanly parrying the lad’s sword-strikes as he goes. You let him get closer than your mace’s ideal range before drawing a gladius as you turn around, swinging both that blade and your mace one after the other. Your gladius knocks the thrust from Wukong’s dagger away from your vital areas, leaving you with just a shallow cut in your arm, and your mace scrapes across his scalp as he tries to duck under it, peeling a patch of his charred skin off.
