Shirou was blasted back and sent skidding across the Light of Lugalszargus's deck.
He landed in a bleeding heap mere meters away from the flaming ruin of the man gun, the armor of his chest and bow arm both warped and damaged. Across his chest the armor had been sliced into and carved at when his siege bow exploded in his hands, the limbs becoming superheated as they had tried to contain the force of the shot, and the cable snapping under the force after he fired. Small holes and divots were carved into the armor alongside deep gouges that the bow cable had carved out.
Shirou's aching chest was nothing compared to his left arm though. The force of the bow cable had clipped his forearm as he fired the final shot and with all the force involved, the cable had carved Shirous' armor, skin, and muscle off like a hot knife through butter. The shrapnel bomb that followed had only made the wound worse. As it was, half the meat was gone completely and Shirou's arm was left pouring blood even as the wind around him drove sand and active O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ into the wound.
That damage was so bad that it eclipsed the rebound damage both Shirou's arms had suffered from drawing too much on his [Reinforcement]. Both limbs had black lines burned into them and were barely able to twitch when Shirou tried to move them.
Shirou wasn't given long to worry about such things though when a mass of armor and meat crashed into the deck neck to him and tumbled through a hole into the fires below. The airborne assailant was enough to spur Shirou to action but with his arms almost non-responsive there was little he could do.
He wasn't forced to try on his own for too long though, as two sets of arms grabbed him and helped move him away from the center deck and up against the bridge. "Ozen! Look at me lad, keep your head on straight!"
A gruff voice echoed out and Shirou saw Drudge crouched in front of him, looking down with worry in his eyes rather than his normal discipline. "Drudge, I… did we get him?"
The old soldier shook his head and gestured for a medic to join them, the faint green glow of Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ once again shrouding Shirou's form. It didn't seem nearly as effective as it had been earlier though, as both the lost flesh and burn wounds on Shirou's arms remained. "Don't worry about that right now, just focus on staying in one piece and doing your job."
Shirou moved to stand, traitorous hands still refusing to obey him even as the flow of blood from his wounds began to slow. "Thats what I've been doing."
A firm hand on Shirou's shoulder pressed him back down against the wall, Drudge staring him down with a stoic, and… resigned look on his face. "No you haven't. You've been out here fighting for all of us and doing what you can but your real job has always been to guard the Padishah." The medic to the side let out a breath of exhaustion as her Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ faded, a shake of her head evidence that she did all she could. "It's time you leave this to us and get our Padishah out of here. The window you just opened will close fast"
Shirou looked up at the pair with wide eyes, his mind fundamentally struggling with the idea of their request. They were telling him to grab Nishka and…run away? Leave the battle and let other people die so that he could live.
It… wasn't right. Couldn't be right.
Shirou's thoughts were derailed by his shoulders shaking, Drudge jerking him out of his thoughts "Stop it with whatever you're thinking. You are one of our Padishah's elite guards, sworn to serve and protect her. Your life isn't something you are allowed to throw away for others, do you understand me? You need to keep her safe and get out of here. NOW!"
His logic was a lifeline to cling to, a way to resolve the paradox plaguing Shirou's mind. He running away to save someone else whose life was worth more than his made much more sense. It still seemed like the better idea would be another guard leaving and saving her while Shirou stayed and fought, but leaving to save Nishka was at least palatable. "All right, I'll… I'll retreat and find Nishka. I'll leave things to…"
"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" A fury filled scream from below ended their conversation.
The floor beneath them shook and vibrated as the sounds of metal being ripped and torn echoed out until a curved blade covered in burning tar stabbed up through the deck. Despite both being metal, and the deck being the reinforced hull of a battleship, the sword moved forward and carved through it with ease and then slid back below.
A beat of stillness passed as everyone held their breaths and processed what just happened. The evidence pointed to one clear answer but it was more that anyone's mind was willing to entertain.
The moment of stillness didn't last long though as the blade stabbed up again carving another line through the ship and catching a soldier's leg as it went. The limb offered no resistance as it was sliced clean off and the soldier fell to the ground screaming and clutching his stump. That scream cut through everyone's stillness and rallied people to action but they weren't fast enough.
Before anyone could move to help, the blade rose up again and carved straight through the screaming soldier's body, dropping a triangular chunk of deck down and sending a gout of flame and smoke up from below.
Through the fire a hand rose up, blade still clutched in its grip. Sticky black tar clung to the limb and blade both and burned under a wreath of black flames. The armor wrapping the limb was barely visible beneath the fire but the bits that could be seen were glowing with heat.
The arm tensed and with a grunt of excretion that sounded close to a snarl a hulking shape leapt up and pulled itself onto the deck.
No one could mistake the form that landed in front of them, stumbling back and forth on shaky legs. The soldier they had unleashed everything they had against just moments before had managed to survive, though he was now far worse for wear.
Gone was the pristine armor and thick plating. His shield had been blown to pieces and his shield arm was left so mangled that it held on only by bits of muscle and tendon. What blood loss he might have been suffering from such a wound was stopped by the fact that his entire form was set ablaze, burning in the same inky black fire of active O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖.
All across his armor globs of thick black sludge seeped, even as it burned, likely a sign that he had the ill fortune to fall into a tank of liquid O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ that caught fire. While his armor was enduring the flames rather well his outfit was by no means hermetically sealed and the burning liquid seeped into any cracks and crevices it could all the while still burning.
Nowhere was that fact more evident than the man's helmeted head. It was not built to seal him from the environment which offered no protection to the burning O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ he fell into. That led to the man's entire face being covered in the stuff, including his eyes and face. It was impossible to make anything out under the black flames but it was easy enough to imagine there was not much left intact.
The sight of his state was deeply horrifying to watch, and managed to drudge up a sense of pity for the hulking figure in everyone's hearts and a desire to put him out of his misery.
"RARGHHHHHHHH!"
Any thought of an easy mercy killing for the blind brute died when he let out a roar and spun his sword in a wide arc.
The graceful bladesmanship from before had evaporated, and his aim was far from perfect. That didn't matter when he had enough strength to carve through four people like butter, along with carving out a chunk of the bridge.
His wild swing left him hunched over and stumbling, likely more from the pain of the fire than the excretion of his attack. There was no pause in his assault though as he swung the blade again, not managing to hit any soldiers but instead slicing an even larger piece of the bridge tower out.
His swinging continued, spurred on by the resistance he was feeling as he kept hacking and slashing at the bridge tower's armored superstructure like an explorer cutting away at a jungle.
Shirou looked on with shock filled eyes as the man began walking straight through the structure, stumbling and cutting everything around him as he did. Even with no engineering background it was obvious that the bridge wouldn't last much longer if he kept it up.
All the other soldiers on deck seemed to agree and began to send a volley of ranged attacks towards the wounded warrior. They managed to do their job and stop his demolition rampage but that was only by turning his ire on them.
The man's sword flew out of the newly formed dust cloud and impaled two soldiers, piercing both their chests and nailing them to the floor. A second later the blade was followed by a lumbering mass of flame and metal as he charged forward and grabbed a soldier's head in its good hand.
Shirou couldn't see what followed from where he stood but the body limply falling to the deck didn't leave much doubt. He felt himself take a step forward, desperate to put an end to the slaughter that was taking place in front of him but a firm hand to the back of his collar dragged the young man back and tossed him to the ground. "WE CAN'T BE BABY SITTING A BOY WITH NO ARMS! FIND THE PADISHAH AND FLEE! NOW!"
Drudge's words struck Shirou deep, even more so than the pain and indignity of flopping to the ground without his arms to catch him. His heart was still screaming and wailing in his chest to run in and try to save at least one other person's life by sacrificing his own, but Shirou knew Drudge was right.
He got himself up to his feet and ran to the bridge entrance, working the handle with his shoulder and trying to drown out the screams and roars coming from behind him. As Shirou navigated the halls and moved up the stars he saw the state of the ship.
Lights were flickering and going out down the halls and a faint haze of smoke was filling the air, a clear sign of the fires burning below deck.
As he pushed himself up to the main bridge Shirou was greeted with a sight almost as chaotic as the battle outside.
All the windows in the bridge had been shattered when the main gun exploded and the shards were still covering the floor. That gave the O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ laden sandstorm free reign to surge into the room which was a major issue for the people inside who had forgone protective gear to give it to others fighting outside.
The raging winds were hauling sand inside as they howled and the many nooks and crannies of the bridge proved perfect for catching and piling up sand.
Several technicians were propped against the back wall of the room, improvised bandages on them as their comrades tended to their glass shard wounds. Other technicians were trying to address the broken windows. Some tried to block the holes with plates of metal and other debris only for the winds to blow them away. Others were frantically trying to drop down an "emergency" armor cover system but by the sound of their cursing and crying the mechanism was non-functional.
Through it all everyone was doing their best to cover their mouths and eyes as they worked, still fighting to keep the active O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ of the storm from getting inside them.
Two people were exceptions to that frantic behavior and instead maintained airs of calm as they stood in the center of the deck, still manning their stations.
Standing at the helm stood the captain, firmly shouting orders through different communication channels. None of the replies sounded positive.
"Sir! The fire from the defense array is still spreading, one of the main generators went up and the other two are at risk."
"The magazine explosion blew a hole through four floors, we have liquified O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ still spilling into the fire."
"Upper decks are filling with smoke, bulkheads 212 through 230 aren't remotely sealing!"
"We have active storm particle infiltration on all upper decks. The O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ particles are making the fire worse."
The captain's replies to each issue as they flowed in were measured and despite a degree of inexperience with the warship itself, his competency still shined through as he remained calm and directed the troops. Even with that guidance though, the reality of the situation remained the same. A fact made even clearer when Shirou saw the second person standing firm in the face of the storm and heard the words coming in from the other two ship captains.
"O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ ammunition stores are at 20% and dropping. My Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ are trying to use their own catalysts but the Cannon is too thirsty for it. What's the status of the Light's magazine?"
Despite the turmoil going on and the chaos around them, Nishka had a degree of calm and focus to her. Just like before she was wearing her mantle of responsibility well as she turned to the beleaguered captain and shook her head. "Non-salvageable captain. The magazine went up along with the gun and with all the damage it caused the ship we're barely holding on. We don't have any spare Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ or supplies to divert… Your men must hold, whatever it takes."
The face on the display didn't even grimace or let a hint of the disappointment those words created show through. Instead a single breath was the reply. "Understood Padishah, I'll tell them they can get creative."
Nishka closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath herself "See to it captain. If push comes to shove… there's plenty of O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ blowing around us. We might need to start using it."
The man offered a salute and turned away on the monitor, breaking Nishka's focus enough that she turned and noticed Shirou. Her eyes widened briefly in happiness at the sight of him and then flew open in alarm at his state "OZEN!" She ran forward and grabbed his arms, earning an involuntary grunt of pain from him.
"Ancestors Ozen! What happened to you? Your… your arms…"
Shirou grit his teeth against the pain and shook his head. "It was that soldier that was charging. I… I put more into my bow than I should have. That doesn't matter though Nishka… we need to get out of here. That man isn't dead yet and until he's tearing this ship apart. We have to leave before…"
Nishka didn't pay any further attention to Shirou's words as he spoke. Instead she stared at his arms fixating on the open wounds and the flecks of O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ that had already stuck to him. Infection with Oripathy was guaranteed at this point, along with the slow death the disease would cause.
In some small way the knowledge that their ends were now ensured was liberating for Nishka. It suddenly made things that much easier for her to understand, and opened up options for her that she wouldn't have considered before…
She reached her hands forward and focussed on Shirou's arms, closing her eyes as she channeled her Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓. The process was as much of a strain as it ever was for her, the only difference being a new well to pull from as she worked.
Rather than drive her brain to its limits Nishka focused on her own body as she drew on her Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓. The difference was far from transformative, and it would still take her a full minute to unwind the wounds on Shirou's flesh, but unlike before she wasn't left with a brain aneurysm for using her Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓.
Instead patches of O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ rapidly grew out of her shoulders. "Ozen… I… no, we can't run. There's no point now."
Shirou looked at the small scales of glassy black stone that poked out of Nishka's flesh with wide eyes behind his mask, the alarm on his face hidden from sight but the tremble of his body language clear. The illness everyone talked about, Oripathy, it shouldn't have occurred that quickly. If the enemy had ridden under that they would all die within an hour.
As his arms rapidly healed though he made the connection. "Don't do this Nishka, you're throwing your life away like this just to heal me!"
Nishka's Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ didn't slow even as she looked up with a raised eyebrow. "Running now would still get us killed, Ozen. Is the plan to survive in the desert on foot?" She let out a shaky laugh at the thought of it "Not to mention the fact we're both infected now."
As the circuit-like burn wounds on Shirou's restored arms cooled and faded, Nishka released her grip and looked at him, then out at the field.
The enemy forces were still charging, even as Pasha and the cannons held back their strongest. Despite that though the dam was breaking, [Awakened] soldiers were hammering the defensive lines and the weakened gap in the middle was already being taken advantage of. The fact an enemy soldier was aboard and tearing into her people would be more than enough to have everything collapse and fall apart.
She couldn't do much to stop it all now. As the Padishah her ability to lead was limited, and she was more figurehead than General. There was one thing she could do to help now though.
"The only choice we have left now is fighting Ozen." She turned to the captain still standing amidst the ruined bridge "Captain Nadir! I'm relinquishing coordination of the other vessels to you. My orders are unchanged… we must hold the line no matter the cost."
Nadir turned back and looked Nishka over, eyes lingering on the O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ growing on her for a moment. His eyes narrowed and flicked to her own, probing for a sign of weakness, or fear. All he found was a cold peace which earned a nod from him followed by a crisp salute. "By your orders my Padishah. None will make it past these ships while we live."
Nishka returned his nod with one of her own and turned back to Shirou "Let's go Ozen. I refuse to let one of them run roughshod on my ship."
Pasha made it easy to forget just how strong the entire awakening process made people.
She was always so grounded and careful around the soldiers, easily pulling punches, gently holding back all the time. The fact that she could walk the ship and live her daily life without breaking things made it seem like the power she possessed was reasonable if a bit impressive.
Drudge understood how truly overwhelming that power was as he and his troops battled the natural disaster on the deck.
The man's strength was unreal. Every swing of his longsword was enough to tear men and women apart with no resistance. The only sign of anything changing was the fact the blade was blunting itself as the "fight" wore on but that didn't help at all and simply changed clean bisecting cuts into soldiers being torn apart from blunted force alone.
The Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ and crossbowmen were trying all they could while still holding back the massing troops below. Arrows and bolts did nothing at all and simply bounced off the man's armor or landed meaninglessly against his skin. Given the complete lack of reaction from those blows it seemed they didn't matter. It was anyone's guess if that was because they did nothing or if the pain of them was nothing compared to what he already suffered.
The Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ being thrown around were at least enough to earn the beast's notice but that would only lead to him charging the firing line for vengeance. Pulling his blind fury back from the Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ required a half dozen give their lives to attack him in melee as he tried to charge away, a strategy that wouldn't work anymore considering the death toll.
The only saving grace they had as they tried to wear him down was the fact that fire was still burning on him. He was clearly resistant to either fire or pain itself but everything had a limit and the fact that he was moving like an increasingly drunken beast was a sign they were nearing his.
If only Drudge and his troops had six times their number to hold him off until they actually crossed that line.
As a blast of Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ formed a block of frozen ice around the man's head he teetered to the side, throw off balance by the weight and shock. The attack wasn't enough to save the soldier he had already been swinging at, though it had thrown off the blow enough to turn a waist height bisection into an instant decapitation.
In response to the apparent opening, soldiers moved forward and swung at his legs with cleavers and axes. The "opening" was only momentary though.
Despite being down an arm and holding his sword the man was quick to break the ice by simply rearing back and slamming his head down at the nearest soldier.
The blow was lightning fast, and although the sight of the man snapping into an almost ninety degree bow was slightly humorous, the puddle of smashed meat that had once been a soldier made the horror of the situation clear.
He was too strong, too fast, too durable!
Anything that got close to him died and nothing they managed to do was able to slow him down. By the time the flames actually killed him, all the soldiers on deck would be dead and half the ship would be torn apart.
None of that would stop them from fighting though. At this point everyone understood how dire things were and even if surviving the fight wasn't possible, they could fight to ensure everyone else made it out.
As the warrior reared was struck by another burst of Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ Drudge readied himself for his turn to charge and give his life. Someone beat him to the punch though.
In a blur of motion Ozen ran forward and swung his longsword, catching the native warrior in the back of the leg. The blow stabbed forward at the unarmored back of his knee and for the first time since the fighting began it earned a proper reaction from him.
"ARGHHHHHHHH!"
It was an understandable response considering Ozen's blade plunged straight into the enemy's kneecap.
Shirou felt his entire body trembling as he stabbed his longsword forward.
He was spreading his [Reinforcement] across his entire body including through his blade. He wasn't putting everything he had into it the way he had with his bow before, but he hadn't been sure how much force he might need to actually leave a mark.
The scream that came as Shirou twisted the blade against bone and cut through ligaments was clear evidence that he had used plenty.
He had only a split second to admire the blow before being forced to stumble back and avoid a lightning fast retaliatory swing.
Had it been any other soldier on deck, the backhanded slash would have plopped two halves of corpse onto the ground. With his entire body cooking under the heat of his [Reinforcement] Shirou was able to dash backwards enough that the strike missed.
The lack of resistance on his sword drew the soldier's attention and he turned to chase his newest prey. The action didn't account for his now ruined right knee though and what would have been a pivot and a charge, led to his armored knee hitting the deck as his leg gave out under him.
The flaming beast of a man tried to force obedience out of his limb but was met with only a limp limb, the cut tendons elevating the wound above an issue of mere pain.
For a moment the soldier's berserker state almost seemed to fade as he looked at his leg with genuine confusion and surprise. The moment's pause was quickly capitalized on as Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ poured Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ attacks at him.
With the enemy slowed and any fear of retaliation gone the stream of attacks continued on longer than it had before. Ice, lightning, fire, and all manner of attacks the Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ could muster were poured on the enemy until a cloud of steam and debris left him completely obscured. The deck became an island of silence amidst the chaos of the battlefield as everyone stared at the shrouded form of the enemy soldier, each hoping that last volley finally put him down.
That hope was dashed when a scream rang out from the mist as the soldier struggled back up to his feet.
His armored body still held solid, though the armor was now well blackened by both the Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ attacks as well as the heat of the flames still scorching him. He was compensating for his crippled leg by using his sword as a crutch to take slow hopping steps forward, a sight which would normally look humorous or pitiable but when done by a man strong enough to rend battleship hulls it became terrifying.
His shaky rage-filled stumbling was taking him on a deceptively quick path towards the Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ and despite the best attempts of the other soldiers to stop or distract him, he continued on.
As he was about to get close enough to swing his crutch sword Shirou ran past the other melee troops and swung his own [Reinforced] blade. As distracted and claimed by tunnel vision as the man was, he didn't react or avoid Shirou's sword, perhaps thinking it would be like all the other blades before it and simply bounce off his strengthened skin or reinforced armor.
Regardless of what could have motivated him, the man didn't move to stop, avoid, or even react to Shirou's blade as it swung towards him. He did however react when the blade swung into the front of his neck and bit through his throat.
The stumbling charge at the Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ ended and the beast of a man let his sword slip from his fingers. He slowly reached up and brushed his hand across his neck, fingers lightly probing at the hole in his throat in apparent shock. His head lolled forward, held by only his spine and the muscles on the back of his neck. Despite being nearly decapitated he did not immediately fall, instead his blood soaked palm snapped forward and grabbed Shirou's own neck.
The fact that Shirou's neck wasn't instantly snapped was a testament to his own [Reinforcement] and how grievous his enemy's wounds now were. Blood was pouring from his neck and sizzling as it landed on his flaming armor and yet still he was grabbing Shirou's throat and tightening.
Shirou's own [Reinforcement] was burning through his body as he fought to stay alive himself, all the while he tried to force his blade against the hardened spine of the monster in human skin he was fighting. He couldn't see his enemy anymore beyond the flaming hand on his throat but he could feel his sword still lodged in place. It was already [Reinforced] to near the breaking point and still couldn't cut the bone. With no chance to swing back and chop again, cutting through was almost an impossibility. There was another option Shirou had though, and with a thought he focused even more energy into the blade, pushing it to its absolute limit and then sailing staring past.
A network of jagged blue lines spread across the sword and began to glow brighter and brighter. When the light covered the entire blade and the glow was enough to be seen through the flames, a bang rang out as the long sword exploded into thousands of pieces.
Shirou stumbled down to the deck and collapsed onto his rear, lungs desperate to draw in air and hands working at his wounded neck.
His enemy's body teetered in place for a single moment, standing like a smoldering stature with its head obscured by smoke. The moment ended with a loud thud as an armored head fell onto the deck, and a body followed.
[You have slain an Ascended Human, Titus]
[You have received a Memory: Honor Guard's Bulwark]
Shirou was still trying to reign in his breathing as the words flicked over his vision, and the faint voice of the spell echoed out in his mind.
Seeing those words explained why that man had been so powerful. Someone in the same league as Pasha was not to be underestimated and his strength reflected that.
"Ozen!"
Nishka's worried voice echoed out from the door to the bridge, the Padishah quick to run out now that the enemy had finally been slain.
Shirou got back up to his feet and turned away from the still Titus's still burning corpse, walking back to Nishka as she began again to cast her Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ on his body. "You don't need to do that Nishka. I'm not that wounded."
The thick scratchy rasp Shirou spoke with didn't convince her and only earned Shirou a pointed look followed by the light of her Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ covering his throat. "Getting choked by a flaming rage monster is grounds for healing, especially since I'm already using my Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ freely. I may as well continue."
Her words called attention back to the fact that she was standing without a respirator, and the slow yet visible spread of originium across her shoulders as she used her Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓. Shirou wanted to challenge her on being reckless and the progression of her newfound disease but now didn't seem the time. Everyone's nerves were still tightly wound from the fight and the battle around them was still ongoing.
As Nishka pulled her hands away from his throat Shirou turned and took stock of the battlefield.
The battle line in front of their ship was fractured and broken, melee soldiers fighting to the last as all the ranged troops were pulled away. The return of the ranged troops began to pull some pressure off their allies below but it was not near enough to turn the tide. The line would fall and the enemy would soon start scaling their ship.
The work of Pasha and the cannons was ongoing and aside from a single lucky one, all the other [Ascended] were occupied and might soon be slain.
Despite how weary they all were, and their resignation to impending death, the soldiers of Sargon took some stock in the thought that their kin and families would survive thanks to their sacrifices. As long as things kept pace the enemy would be completely spent and left unable to pursue the rest of the caravan after this battle…
The Light of Lugalszargus shook as a mass of armor and flesh slammed into the sloped side of its hull and bounced up into the air.
The shape traced a gentle arc through the sky and landed on the deck, broken and bleeding beneath its formerly gem encrusted armor.
The world seemed to freeze as everyone on deck stared at Pasha, her wounds deep and debilitating. Her hand had been mangled under her gauntlet, fingers twisted and broken. The armor on her back had caved in on the point that slammed against the ship and bounced her in the air.
The worst wound of them all was on her gut, where the armor had been blown to pieces and a fist sized hole was freely bleeding.
Nishka's eyes widened as she forced herself forward on stumbling legs that broke into a sprint even as three medics also approached and began channeling their Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓.
Seeing Pasha's state was like having ice water poured onto their souls. Even as she began to be healed the very fact she was tossed away from the fight like a rag doll meant someone far worse was out there.
On the far side of the battle field the enemy troops had stopped their advance. No more charged and despite not being held up any longer, not [Ascended] joined the fight.
Instead a single man walked towards the Sargonian army, his gait calm and his steps assured.
Despite the lack of numbers and the paradox of one man being nowhere near as dangerous as the masses of troops behind him, both the Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ cannons swiveled and opened fire on him, two hypersonic slugs of death flying his way.
Both shots were casually intercepted by a flick of a wrist two bolts of blinding white flame.
The man stood his ground and continued walking forward, intercepting every shot that came his way until he reached the range of the other weapons.
A veritable wall of ballista bolts, crossbow bolts, and arrows shot out and rained down towards the man in numbers enough to block out the sky.
A swirling bubble of white flames bloomed up from around him and expanded out before fading like a popped soap bubble. Everything the flames had touched disintegrated into dust and ash.
His foot steps slowed as he came into range of the Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ offering them a cocked head in challenge before they poured all the Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ they could onto him.
Once more a contemptibly thin wall of flame formed and swept around the man in a bubble. Despite being only inches thick the wall might as well have been a mile deep for all the luck anyone had penetrating it. Every strike and blow that touched the swirling current of flame simply… burned away, incinerated so completely that nothing was left.
Ice was vaporized, lightning conducted down into the ground, sound too weak to move the hyper-heated air. Anything and everything the Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ could do was burnt away on that shield and earned not even a single ripple for their trouble.
By the time their assault tapered off the Ć̵͖ȃ̶͕͍ş̸̓͑t̷͚͛è̴̙r̸̻͠s̷̨̛͈ on deck were completely spent, their bodies trembling from the strain of wielding their Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ too much.
In reply their foe's shield once more languidly and gently popped, showing him standing there with his hands behind his head completely unbothered by their display. "Well now, after the fine show she put on I honestly expected much better from her kin. It seems I was mistaken."
He lifted his hands from his behind head and pointed a palm at each of the two remaining Ȁ̵̱̀ŗ̸̔t̶͔̎s̴̢̊̓ cannons. Two whirlpools of flame swirled into being in front of his hands and began spinning and drawing fire into their centers forming blinding balls of fire and light. After only a few seconds of warm up the balls in his hands were glowing as brightly as the sun, and seemingly satisfied with them the [Transcendent] general flexed his palms.
Two razor thin beams of plasma screamed out of his hands and tore through the last two cannons, the shielding of the ships and the armor of the cannons, doing literally nothing to slow the strikes.
The beams of flame and light were small enough that they didn't instantly cause devastation when they punched through but with a lazy twitch of his wrists the enemy dragged the attacks down the cannons and through the ships.
Explosions rang out across the vessels as they were bisected, fuel lines erupting into flame, and O̸̝̕ř̵̺i̶̮̋g̸̰͒i̴̼͠ṉ̴̿i̴͚͗u̴͋͜ḿ̷̖ stores detonating from the heat. Their main gun both joined the fate of the Light's and exploded into shrapnel, sending bodies and debris scattering. Sirens and alarms rang out as the crews of the ships desperately scrambled to triage the wounded and manage the damage despite the hopelessness of the situation.
And standing down on the sand, looking completely unbothered by the chaos he had just unleashed, the enemy general began laughing.
It started slow as a chuckle and bobbing of his head but as the moments dragged on and the Sargonian defenders grew more desperate to manage the damage he caused the enemy began bending over from laughter, his cackles echoing out across the sands. "Ahahahahaha! I can't believe this! I…I actually thought you all would be a challenge but instead … instead you're all just a pack of unawakened garbage!" His cackling grew louder as he spoke and by the time he finished he was left doubled over and clutching his stomach to hold back his laughter.
The sight of the cruel and callous insult to the soldiers who were fighting and dying was enough to leave Shirou's blood boiling, but the raised hand aimed at the melee troops was enough to force him to action.
Before his conscious mind had fully caught up with what he was doing Shirou had moved to jump off the railing of the ship, [Reinforcement] flowing through his legs as he fell to cushion the landing.
He fell down into a rough roll but his strengthened legs endured the fall and carried him into an impressive sprint. It was enough that he cleared the melee soldiers and reached the open field the enemy stood in before his latest lazily formed strike took shape.
With one more burst of energy through his legs and arms Shirou drew out the last two weapons he had. He poured his [Reinforcement] into the twin scimitars and swung at the [Transcendent]'s unarmored wrist.
Both blades clacked against the man's unblemished skin as though his arm was a mountain. The skin did not break or bleed and the entire arm, despite being outstretched and unsupported, didn't move even a millimeter. Rather than even disrupt his foe, Shirou's own arms jerked back and rang out with pain from the rebound of his blow, his palms left aching from the strike.
The only reason that no wave of flame rose up to annihilate the melee troops was the fact that the enemy soldier was looking down at Shirou with a raised eyebrow, his prior laughter now gone. "Perhaps I spoke too soon though. It seems some of you have a bit of fire in your hearts."