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This fire must be the doing of Gareth! You just know it! If it weren't for the fact that the smoke is causing you to choke and cough, it'd be tempting to let loose an epic temper tantrum. The sound of battle is in the next room, and there's no time to waste. This paltry fire cannot block your path.
"Stay close, Yatagarasu! To danger we go!"
With that, you summon the comforting and chilling powers of ice gifted to you by Avalon. Nay, by a Kami; Beira, the Cailleach.
<span class="mu-g">Exalt the Gods and none shall stand before you. So it was proclaimed, so it was promised, and so it shall be.</span>
Ice blasts outwards to form a perfect sphere, shielding you from fire and smoke as you dash with Yatagarasu towards the sound of battle. The outward limits of the sphere are like a battering ram strong enough to wreck the shoji doors 2 feet away from your body. There’s something different about your ice powers—they're easier to manipulate and stronger. It's a shame you don’t quite have the time to analyze it because there is bloody work to do.
The sight that greets you upon tearing down those doors isn't like anything you expected. In one corner of the room, the mason Baphomet is weakly dragging a thin goat man away from combat. In another corner, the most bizarre-looking creature you've ever seen is fighting two hammer-wielding Baphomets, wildly striking whenever the opportunity arises. The thing is massive; it possesses tendrils of hair that act more like prehensile whips and try to bludgeon its tormentors.
But perhaps the most surprising sight of this scene is an evolved Baphomet with both its legs cut off at the knees, lying in a pool of its own blood with reams of shredded black hair scattered around it. In its hands is a battle axe with strands of black hair wrapped around it.
"Ack, it's going to scream again!" One of the hard-pressed warriors shouts.
The thing rears up, and the slits begin to open up like eyelids. Light spills out from them, and the air shivers unnaturally.
KREEEONK!
Whatever this unnatural sound is, it raises the hair on the back of your neck and forces you to take a step back. Fear stabs at the core of your courage, and the idea of getting close to the monster is unbearable. You want to shrink away and flee while life and breath still linger within you. Every Baphomet must feel the same; a terrible slowness takes hold, and trembles of dread shake their resolve.
<span class="mu-r">"BREAK YOUR BACK AND CRACK YOUR OARS, IF YOU WISH TO PREVAIL.</span> The injured evolved Baphomet shouts and triggers his ability.
