They had only made it a single floor up before they’d had to abandon the King’s Claw. It was Armel who shouted for them to jump, so Cross pushed from the cage and leaped for the nearest floor.
The Blessed Beams only lit up the area briefly, but he was able to leap from the rising claw to the floor with only a slight stumble.
“Stairs!” Cole was already waving towards the nearby stairs, only for a groan to draw Cross’ eye back to the King’s Claw.
Several Blessed Beams struck it, the Blackstone holding up under several blasts before one pierced through the cage and struck the claw holding it. It ceased rising, with two more blasts ripping the claw apart and sending it crashing into the edge of the ring and tumbling down through numerous rings to the sludge far below. Fetcher wasted no time, rushing to the edge of the ring and firing his Caster down before two Blessed Beams streamed up past him.
Armel yanked him back out of the way, with Fetcher grumbling as he shook him off and hurried towards the stairs with the others.
Cross and Misser aimed their Casters down the curved stairwell, covering the others as they raced up behind them just in case there were more Blanken coming up. Despite his best efforts, Cross couldn’t help glancing to Misser’s modified caster.
Armel clapped his hands right behind them once everyone was heading up, prompting both to turn and follow behind. They had a good head start, there were only two more floors until they reached the helm.
But as they ran, the sounds of their greaves hitting the stairs was replaced by a bemused groan.
“Sorry brothers, sisters.” It was thoughtspeak from one of the Blanken far below “Would seem we require your aid after all. In atonement, I offer several lost servants five floors above.”
Cross heard Cole grumbling loudly at that, but they continued up into the last floor before the helm: the Workshop.
They emerged to a large circular room with curved workbenches lined all with twin staircases near the edges which led up to the battlements around the helm.
Yet Cross didn’t follow the others to those stairs immediately, for the moment they entered they found several shapers staring them down.
On each workbench was a Shaper, a segmented Blackstone arm built right into it. Cross paused at the sight of them, having believed they’d have shut down without the Tower’s refinery to power them.
Yet he could see it was merely a slow process, as upon the several dozen workbenches only a few of the shapers were still moving, the purplish glow inside slowly fading until they would join the rest of the unmoving husks around them.
“What are you doing?” The Newblood paused to ask, spotting Cross staring at the nearest shaper. Several of their allies slowed to look back as well as Cross looked to the nearest shaper, its three fingers twitching in anticipation for some Blackstone to work on even as it slowly died.
Having seen them working in factories for so long, the sight was morbidly fascinating to Cross.
“Down!” Armel charged into Cross from the side, throwing both of them to the ground just before a large Blessed Beam tore through the side of the workshop.
When Cross pushed himself up, he saw the nearest staircase had been completely torn through along with the opposite wall. The clouds had returned since they were last outside, but the darkness and rain weren’t enough to obscure the pale fingers of a damaged Brighthome circling them from beyond.
“That thing’s still flyin’?!?” Cole gasped as he pulled Fetcher to his feet.
“Many thanks brother!” the insultingly cheerful tone of Brother Holst echoed out from the Brighthome as it slowed to a stop at one of the holes “We’ll grant them her mercy! Please, do join when you’re finished!”
Cole opened fire immediately, with Fetcher and Wristy following suit. Cross hefted his own Caster as well, sending arcs of purple energy tearing along the damaged exterior. Chunks of Pearlglass broke away as two of its fingers opened up, with the first Blanken to leap out catching one of Cole’s blasts in the side of the helmet and slamming into the side of the Tower instead.
The next two Blanken immediately darted behind workbenches and debris before returning fire. One hissed as one of the Shapers snapped its pincer-like fingers at her, only for her to turn the blaster on the Shaper before blasting it apart.
Cross ducked behind the nearest workbench as well, seeing Cole and Fetcher scatter for cover.
Cole ended up next to the Newblood, glancing over the edges of a chunk of the broken stairs and hissing at the sight of two more Blanken leaping out from the Brighthome. He was about to return fire when he realized Misser still hadn’t fired a single shot since the Brighthome’s attack. He just rubbed a hand along his modified Caster in admiration.
Cole quickly slapped him upside the head.
“Ya gonna shoot ‘em soon?!?” he spat as Misser glared at him.
“Oh?” Misser leaned closer “just making sure I don’t miss.”
“Focus comrades!” Armel called out before nudging Cross “C’mon! Few good shots should be ‘nuff to finish the damned thing! Focus fire before-!”
A loud crashing sound cut Armel off before he could finish. Cross peaked back over the workbench to see a Crusader had leaped from the Brighthome right before it floated away from the hole.
Instead of the oversized swords the previous Crusaders had, this one hefted a large shield of clear Pearlglass that towered over them. Several Caster blasts struck the shield, but the Crusader stood tall as their other hand hefted a mace almost as long as the shield was.
Through that shield, Cross could see the Crusader’s eye darting between them as the firefight continued.
“What?!?” Cole did a double-take at the sight before ducking down as Blessed Beams struck the Workbench again “What kinda Patrol fleet has Templars?!?”
“Annoyin’ ones!” Wristy shouted before a New Voice echoed in their heads.
“Filthy,” the word dripped with Malice, as the Templar looked between them “the filth lies seventeen steps before me.”
They all knew what he was doing immediately, with Cross quickly scrambling to run to a different piece of cover even as Blessed Beams began screaming towards him. They were nothing compared to the glowing section of nearby wall, which tore open as the Brighthome fired into the tower again. Cross rolled behind a new chunk of debris, scrambling to pull himself out of the line of fire as the sound of Caster fire picked up again.
“Those Blanken below are gonna box us in if we don’t hurry.” Cross adjusted his helmet and raised his Caster. He whipped it up and fired an an arc into the side of one Blanken’s head, only for his joy to sour once he saw him tear the destroyed helmet off and duck under cover once again.
He ducked low and waited for another opportunity before a gruesome crunching noise made him whip his head around in time to see several horribly twisted arcs of purple speeding towards the Blanken and coating the Templar’s shield in numerous fizzling dots.
“Ha!” Misser shouted as he patted his weapon “I’ll melt right through him!”
“What was-?” Cole was pinned behind a fallen column with Fetcher, but that didn’t stop him from giving Misser’s weapon another hard glare “Did you Scatter mod ya damn Caster?!?”
“Of course.” Misser slid down beside Cross and patted his caster “Can’t miss with this many shots.”
“USELESS!” Cole barked before several blessed beams tore off another chunk of his column “You ain’t piercin’ squat like that, you-!”
“Pass it!” Armel shouted as he suddenly burst out from a nearby Workbench. Hands clenched; he ducked under a blessed beam whilst closing the distance.
“But-!” Misser bit his tongue and just grunted in annoyance before tossing the modified Caster.
“C’mon, comrades!” Armel called out as he darted between the workbenches, swerving out of the way of Blaster fire as he neared one of the columns “I’ll getcha some pickins!”
His greaves radiated a black aura that Cross had nearly forgotten about. The same one that had shown when he’d gone scouting after reaching the mountains.
He had Wall-Walker greaves.
Without even slowing, Armel ran up the column straight to the ceiling, even with Blessed Beams tearing into it. Soon he was running along the ceiling, his greaves holding him to the ceiling as he turned Misser’s weapon on the Blanken and fired.
“Damn showy.” Cole snarled before smacking a hand against the floor.
Cross was so enthralled by Armel’s display of reckless positioning that he almost missed the signal but swung his Caster up just as his fellows charged from their positions.
What he saw were three Blanken covered in those sizzling purple dots, showing more confusion than fear as one openly poked at them.
“What did they just-?” one wasn’t even able to finish her statement before Cross’s Caster tore through her head and sent her crashing to the floor.
“Hold firm!” The Templar shouted as his allies scrambled back under cover “This filth shall be slaughtered!”
He hefted his shield just as Cole led Fetcher and Wristy over the Workbenches, all three charging him whilst focusing their fire.
“Every last scrap!” he held up under the combined fire even as cracks began forming in his shield “Perignassi will welcome us back!”
One of the Blanken soldiers popped up just as Cole hopped on the Workbench he was hiding behind. Despite raising his blaster, Cole threw himself down into him and knocked his Blaster off target right before it fired into the ceiling.
Fetcher and Wristy didn’t slow, continuing to riddle the shield with Caster fire only for the Templar to suddenly burst into a run. Fetcher choked down a snarl before that mace came swinging around and slammed into his side, ripping him off the workbench and sending him crashing against another.
Wristy fired into the Templar’s exposed back, but his armor held up long enough for him to swing his shield around. Wristy leaped off the Workbench and grabbed hold of the top his shield, planting her feet against it before swinging the barrel of her caster over the top and blasting half his helmet off.
It only enraged him further, as the Templar immediately dropped his mace and gripped the edges of his shield in both hands, hoisting it high before slamming it and Wristy into the floor.
“Filthy...” he snarled out of his partially melted helmet “The Filth lies before me.”
Another blast of purple sparks sprayed him down, but the Templar merely stood with a snarl as his gaze snapped up,
He whipped his head back towards Armel just as he hopped down from the ceiling. The black aura around his greaves faded as he swung his legs down and landed atop another chunk of debris.
“Nine steps, brother!” the Templar spat as he brought his foot down hard on the shield and Wristy.
Armel scrambled to push off of the workbench, only for Cross to tackle him out of the way. They both went flying as another beam from the Brighthome tore through the wall behind them, with Cross spinning around just in time to see Cole jerking back with only half of a Caster in his grasp.
“You’re joking!” Cole threw the broken weapon to the ground in a rage.
Cross quickly looked over himself, smile growing as he found everything still attached.
“Damned luck,” Armel’s groan made Cross look over to see him waving a stump of a left arm around, “was doin’ so good this time!”
“Filth!” a roar of anger brought Cross’s gaze up just in time for the head of a mace to crash into his side. Everything spun before he smacked into another Workbench, his vision hazy as he felt new leaks across his back.
His hand shot back, pushing himself away from the Workbench so he could check his wounds, only for a loud crash to bring his attention to Armel.
“Filthy pawns!” The Templar snarled as he stumbled towards Armel “For a filthy God!”
Armel scrambled to pull himself up in the growing pool of ichor around him. His greaves pushed him up enough for him to whip the Caster around, only for it to send a splattering of sizzling purple dots across the Templar’s form.
“Filthy lives.” The Templar didn’t miss a beat, looming over Armel as he raised his mace in both hands “Cleansed in her name!”
Cross struggled to push himself up, eye searching for his comrades. Fetcher was blasting apart another Blanken and Wristy was just managing to drag herself out from under that shield.
Just as panic started to form, a battle cry reached him.
Cole leaped in, pushing off from a Workbench with one hand holding the Blackstone tube linked to his ichor tank. With a twist of his wrist he wrenched it free and swung it, sending a spew of Ichor directly into the Templar’s broken helmet.
The Templar screamed out, pulling back as the Mace fell from his grasp. Cole kept hosing the flailing Templar in it before hastily shoving the tube back into his helmet.
“Quit whinin’, brother!” he laughed as he caught himself on one gray hand.
Cross pushed himself up and turned his Caster on the stumbling Templar, only to pause as he saw it.
The Gray Haze.
Beneath the broken portions of his helmet, Cross could already see portions of his shell turning. Gray coloration taking over the Pearly white all Blanken were known for.
“At… what?” the Templar mumbled, pawing at his helmet in a fit as the last droplets of ichor seeped from his broken helmet “Attitude… Attitude… Whine whine Filth!”
He bit down on a laugh as his hands balled into fists. He reared back before striking himself several times, even his armor was starting to gray as he spun around towards them.
“What are we-?” his question broke off into confused laughter as he struck himself some more “You! Where? Yes yes yes yes!”
Fetcher shoved aside the mutilated body of the last of the Blanken before moving to help Wristy patch herself, but both of them froze upon hearing the Templar clapping.
“Yes good! Maybe?” his joy switched to confusion as well as he struggled to form words.
Cross could see inside his helmet. See the fuzzy gray void where a white eye once was.
Cole stared him down the entire time he adjusted his tube, turning away only when another chuckle joined the Templar’s.
“How long you had, comrade?” Armel laughed as he carefully closed his leaking stump with pieces of a nearby Workbench “One cycle? Two?”
Cole shrugged as Armel pushed away from the workbench and began making his way towards the only remaining set of stairs leading up.
“Them Blanken downstairs prolly right below us.” He said whilst tossing the Caster back to the Newblood “C’mon still gotta move!”
“Move!” the Templar cheered before suddenly stumbling towards Cole.
Despite his lop-sided gait, Cole still darted away from the Gray-Crazed Templar as his tainted hands flailed at him. Gray fluids leaked from him, turning the Blackstone floor around him a sickly gray as well.
“Move yes!” the Templar slammed against one of the Workbenches before spotting a pale handle, “Mace yes!”
He grinned wide as he wrapped his hands around his mace and pulled, only to fail to even lift the thing in any fashion. He strained, twisting his body as he repeated himself over and over.
“Mace yes!” he said again as Fetcher and Wristy gave him a wide berth while following Armel.
The Templar’s gray eye darted from them to his mace several times as he struggled to lift it, only for the jagged fingers of a Shaper arm to swing into his head. The Gray helmet and shell gave with only the slightest hint of resistance, tearing clean away from his body in a shower of tainted blood and glass.
He jerkily raised his arms up towards his stump of a neck, but the bloodloss was too great. Already his movements slowed drastically, limbs locking up and bringing Cross no small amount of satisfaction after all the trouble the Templar had given them.
Cross was snapped from his stupor as Misser kicked the gray body, his foot tearing through it and sending shards everywhere as he hefted the broken shaper arm and spat upon the Templar.
He turned his glare on Cole.
“How’d you know my modifications would fail?” he demanded as Cole passed him to follow the others.
“Caster crystal ain’t big ‘nuff for Scatter moddin’, Misser.” Cole spat with a roll of his eye “Only Pawns doin’ that are makin Piercers or a lightshow for Newblood chumps like ya’self!”
Though they returned to their arguing with ease on the way up, Cross couldn’t keep himself from looking at the broken form of the Templar.
At the disgusting, gray fate that awaited Cole.
