Samwell cut off his Mana Blast the instant the dome formed, the clash collapsing as he staggered a half step back. He dragged in a breath, shoulders rising and falling as he looked visibly paler, the strain catching up to him now that he had stopped forcing power into the beam. He had pushed himself just to hold against one of them. If the Beast had released the others it had been charging, he would not have survived. "What an abomination," he muttered, voice rough and unsteady.
Ercale, meanwhile, had already turned his attention to the source of the dome. His gaze settled on Annabel as frost still crept along the surface of the ice construct. "That should hold it for a few minutes… or maybe seconds," she said, her voice tight with uncertainty as she watched it. "Who knows how fast it changes."
Prince Mark exhaled slowly as he studied the barrier, then shook his head. "Without my G.E.A.R., I cannot help much at all," he admitted. "If it has already changed to take hits from Clara's magic, I doubt my strikes are going to do anything." With that, he turned and began moving quickly out of the crater, retreating toward the edge to take position on the sidelines.
Bram stepped in beside Ercale, eyes still on the dome. "I doubt the beating is going to work if it's going to keep changing," he said bluntly. "So the speech, if you were being serious about that, feels like our only option. Problem is, neither of us are good at that."
Ercale gave a short nod, then scanned the edge of the crater. His gaze stopped on Zee, still pinned down by Mae.
"There is one person I can think of who might be able to give a speech to bring him back in control," he said, voice lower now. "But if the Beast attacks her before she can give it…" He didn't finish the thought. He didn't need to.
Bram let out a breath through his nose. "Just great," he muttered. Then louder, more resolved, "Alright. I'll be on tanking duty. You get the elf to her senses and get her to help."
Ercale didn't waste time responding. He was already moving, heading toward the edge of the crater—
—just as the dome began to fail.
From one side of the sealed ice, a thin thread of black smoke seeped outward, slipping through the barrier where nothing physical should have passed. It thickened, spilled free, and then began to gather.
The Beast phased through.
It reformed just outside the dome, its body solidifying again as the last of the smoke drew inward.
"Already?" Annabel said, frustration edging into her voice as she watched her construct bypassed so easily.
"Now that is a familiar ability," Amara remarked, though she made no move to attack. If it had already adapted to resist fire, there was little point in repeating the same approach.
"Welp, I guess I'll go this time," Drimus said, rolling his shoulders before glancing toward Callum. "Hey, werewolf man. Want to help? We can both transform, so we've got to have some kind of kinship, right?"
Callum looked exhausted, the kind of tired that settled deep into the bones. "I would really rather not have kinship with a demon," he replied flatly, "and I am really damn tired… but I guess I have to." He exhaled, steadying himself as both of them prepared to transform.
The Beast finished reforming and turned its head.
Its eyes locked onto Annabel, Bestial Hatred burning through every one of them.
"Don't forget about me!" Bram called out as he stepped in, drawing its focus just as it roared and charged.
It came in fast, right claw cutting across in a horizontal slash.
Bram shifted off-line, the strike passing just in front of him as his saber snapped across the Beast's chest in the same motion, carving a clean line through it. One of its tails whipped toward him immediately after. He turned into it, cutting through the limb mid-strike and severing it before it could land. The second tail followed from the opposite angle. He dropped low, ducking under it as it tore through the space above his head.
He didn't stop moving.
His leg hooked in, sweeping the Beast's footing out from under it. As its weight shifted and collapsed, he flowed forward, driving his blade straight into its sternum in a clean thrust.
Then his other hand moved.
His longsword came free in a smooth draw, and he drove it down through the Beast's skull, the blade punching through into the ground beneath it.
"Whoa, that last stab was hard to do," Bram remarked, adjusting his grip as the Beast's body began thrashing violently beneath him.
The force of it built quickly, too much to hold.
He twisted both blades free and kicked off, jumping back to create distance as the Beast tore itself up from the ground. His longsword was already being sheathed as he settled into stance again.
"That chi-using body of yours… ugh, it's hard to cut up with a normal sword," he said, leveling the saber toward it.
The Beast rose fully, its wounds already sealing, its gaze fixed on him. For a brief moment, it simply stared.
Then it moved its right hand.
It snapped the arm downward, and from that motion, blackness condensed and stretched, forming into shape—
A longsword.
Solid. Dark. Held firmly in its grip.
Bram's expression tightened. "Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me," he muttered.
The Beast snarled and came at him.