122. Free-for-All

A fire ant flew into the mouth of the abyss—and threw the situation on the ground for the other ants into pure chaos.

Serac was forced to tear her eyes—both naked and Pathsighted—away from the insanity that unfolded in the sky. Instead, she concentrated on surviving a veritable storm of falling prawn legs. And not just legs, for the Frostkrill now writhed and bounced in apparent pain, throwing its immense weight and gargantuan frame behind every convulsion.

The ice fragmented further, creating new islands and stretching the distances in between. It left a hydrophobic Rakshasa with very little room to maneuver out of the way of a writhing giant prawn. But her Manusya partner was quick to let their two months of amphibious training take over, using a combination of [Fan] and [Staff] to 'steer the ship'. An inanimate iceberg was no turtle, but scramblers couldn't be choosers.

Other ants in the vicinity weren't as quick—or perhaps as lucky. Several more members of the Kronvakt fell victim to megaton punches and gigaton body slams, leaving clouds of Souldust to be dispersed into the Interstitium (no smiting blow = no soul to claim the Karma). Therefore, what had started as a platoon of Wayfarers now shrank into not much more than a squad. Which was exactly the outcome Team Serac—under Renate's strict instructions—had hoped for, and yet…

There is another way. And why wouldn't there be? The slopes of Mount Meru are vast enough to accommodate all walks of life—all manner of Paths to tread.

Watching Rathor's antics—some of them brilliant, others downright horrific—had reactivated Serac's flip-or-flop response… which in turn resurrected her earlier misgivings about her team's chosen tactic. She didn't doubt that Renate had the right idea and was taking her approach to the Realmhunt in good faith—after all, the frog woman did win the damn thing ten years ago. But Serac also believed there was more than one way to skin a cat…

… Or, in this case, to barbecue a shrimp.

The Frostkrill's throes of pain came to an abrupt end. It then spat out a Yaksha-sized speck—which left a trail of green flames and black smoke as it shot earthward, before crash-landing in a puff of crushed ice and aerosolized blood.

Serac took a moment to look up and reassess the situation. The Frostkrill's jade-green carapace was still intact, as was the analogous coating over its health bar. But there'd been a visible and significant reduction in the reddish shade that represented the actual HP underneath. Nearly half the Frostkrill's health had been shaved off, just from the one attack that had bypassed its shields.

As for the hunter responsible, his crash landing looked to be a nasty one, but Serac had no doubt he'd pull through. I'm sure Prince Sicko would've found a way to sacrifice his 'girlfriend' again. This latest thought dripped with plenty of contempt and almost none of her earlier fascination for Rathor Tyrsen. At least this was one flip she was likely never to flop on again.

Yet, despite her newfound contempt for the man, Serac made sure to take notes on his fighting prowess. There's obviously a limit to how long Rathor can keep his [Tapana] spell active, otherwise he would've just stuck with it until the Frostkrill's whole HP bar burned down. MP? Stamina? Or maybe a different resource entirely?

She tucked the observation into a corner of her mind, sharing it with Trippy so he could help her keep track. For one reason or another, she was convinced it would come in handy in the not-too-distant future.

But not now. Right now, there was a giant prawn with half its health left to burn. Not only that, but there was also a distinct shift in the Frostkrill's behavior—one that, at least as far as Serac was concerned, presented a new opportunity for a pair of landbound hunters.

A limb flew down from the sky as the Frostkrill righted itself. Serac hopped off her island and onto solid ground, just in time as the iceberg broke apart into smaller chunks. She then promptly spun around and fired REVOLVER from the hip, managing to catch the prawn leg before it took to the air once more.

A lead spark against a jade-green shield. No damage number. But Serac wasn't discouraged, waiting for her next opportunity to test her theory.

"Wrong target!" came Coach Renate's rebuke from the water. "Rathor did us a favor there, but he won't get a chance to repeat the same trick. Don't lose sight of the goal now, not when we're so close. Not until—"

"Until what?" Serac snapped at her coach, now leaning fully into her rebellious side. "Until there's one of us standing? Until I've gotten rid of Hilde, Rathor, and maybe even Zacko, just to make sure I'm the only one that can finish off a shield-less Frostkrill? Because that's what your 'tactic' is leading up to, isn't it? That's how King Tyr got his smites… and how you won your Hunt."

The water fell silent, sending nary a ripple in response. It was impossible for Serac to read the other woman's mind, but she wanted Renate to know there was no accusation behind her words. She didn't mean to demean or cut down, but to include and uplift.

She merely wanted to find her happy place—and stay there.

"There's no use arguing with Serac when she's like this, Bubblegum," Zacko chimed in then, though his gaze was directed towards potential threats from above, "and besides, I think the game has changed—enough to warrant switching up our tactics. See for yourself!"

The game wasn't the only thing that had changed. As the sun dipped into the horizon, the gathering darkness made the Frostkrill's Zealous-imbued carapace glow brighter with a jade luminescence. It conveniently served as a new light source for the surviving hunters—but more crucially, it also highlighted the Frostkrill's volatile state of mind.

A giant forelimb—one meant for hunting rather than locomotion—flew in from above. It was aimed, not at Rathor the prey-turned-predator, but at Serac the opportunistic scavenger.

Serac was ready—had all but anticipated it. She dove backward to avoid the intentional attack, all while aiming REVOLVER into the point of impact and firing from midair.

Again, no damage to HP. But the shot coincided with the same Ksana where ABYSSGAZER's glowing aura momentarily dimmed. The effect was brief, and the entire carapace quickly lit up again with jade-swirling-with-white energy, leaving no visual evidence that Serac's bullet had done anything at all.

Pathsight, however, couldn't be fooled. The change was so subtle you would've missed it unless you were looking out for it. But Serac was looking at the Frostkrill's health bar, and she did see it. One tiny piece of the jade coating had chipped off, exposing a sliver of the lurid red underneath.

"Impossible," the water murmured, awestruck.

On the surface, Serac readied to dodge another attack, assuming she'd just volunteered herself for the tank role. To her surprise (and—let's face it—relief!), the Frostkrill's forelimb changed course and swept across the ice, back towards the very-much-alive figure of Rathor.

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The prince [True]-zipped out of harm's way and took to the air, no doubt to resume his tanking duties. But then the Frostkrill changed tack again, this time with vicious pincers that closed in on another Kronvakt member on the far side of the ice. This third hunter, evidently, wasn't as well-prepared as a Serac or a Rathor—and his Hunt met an untimely end.

And so it went. The Frostkrill spun and skated on ice, with its deadly forelimbs choosing new, deliberate targets with every subsequent move. And each time they did, ABYSSGAZER 'cycled' its aura on-and-off—on when shifting its focus and off when committing to its kill.

Serac moved with the changing tides, all while putting two and two together.

Rathor's HP-halving counterattack had touched upon something primal in the Frostkrill's core, thereby triggering its fight-or-flight response. ABYSSGAZER's magic was now less an equilibrium and more like a series of wild pendulum swings. A cornered quarry mounting its last and most desperate defense—in the form of naked, indiscriminate aggression.

"Ha! That's more like it!"

Serac took to the mutual tactical shift with gusto. The enemy had presented her with a straightforward avenue to whittle down its defenses. Forget square pegs and round holes. It was time to take a hammer to the box and smash the whole thing to pieces!

[Auxiliary Technique: THE GRIND]

Fully cognizant of the per-Cartridge limitations of REVOLVER, Serac chose to give PULVERIZER its chance to shine. It upped her risk of losing it all, requiring her to stay at melee range even as she sidestepped megaton punches. But it was also the bluntest, crudest tool at her disposal, which made it all the more suited to the job of deshelling a shrimp.

And it wasn't just Team Serac that had been quick on the uptake. Soon enough, the entire 'alliance' got on the same page, timing their counterattacks with ABYSSGAZER's off-switch for maximum effect. Piece by piece and chunk by chunk, the jade coating fell away, revealing more and more of the final objective.

But the shrimp hadn't been idle while a whole hunting party tried to eat it alive. It was, not for nothing, the BIGGEST, strongest, most perceptive Wildspawn in the land. Its myriad eyes saw and its all-knowing feelers read the location and stance of every hunter, no matter their position on the aggro ladder. The Frostkrill began to mix things up, throwing out leg sweeps and barrel rolls to catch hunters off-guard. More Wayfarers turned to Dust, having lost their chance at glory with the finish line so close.

And therein lay perhaps the 'biggest' problem Team Serac had to contend with: time.

The Realmhunt's finale was nigh, and as yet, there was no way to tell whether it would end with a smite. And with each hunter the alliance lost, the less likely they were to finish deshelling the Frostkrill in time for one of them to deal the smiting blow.

Serac was under no illusion that she'd win the Hunt—and therefore her wager with Rathor—without a prawn-sized injection to her score. Her team's loop to summon the Frostkrill had been a productive one, but by then, Team Rathor would've ripped through multiple loops of a similar haul. As such, she felt the time pressure more keenly than most… though perhaps not as much as—

"There's no time!" Coach Renate shouted out her loudest advice yet, waves be damned. "Go back to the original plan and shut off ABYSSGAZER for good! Use the confusion to your advantage!"

"Nothing confusing about any of this!" Serac clapped back, even as she scanned the jade-lit sky for her next opportunity to strike. "There's a giant monster, so we hunt as a pack."

"You still don't get it, do you?" Renate croaked at the top of her lungs, with a note of pleading edging into her voice. "The rules are there to deceive—to trap the hunters into an inevitable outcome. The Realmhunt isn't a team sport! Never has been, and never will be!"

Speaking of team sport…

Unbeknownst to all on the ice—save perhaps for the Frostkrill itself—a pair of new arrivals had joined the Hunt. They weren't reconstituted Kronvakt, hustling back to the scene after a miraculously speedy pit stop in the Interstitium. Nor were they the royal couple, reneging on their promise to stay neutral (even more egregiously than they already had!).

No, they were the Tomasen twins—Roots-born sturgeons who'd been denied entry into the Kronvakt (and therefore tickets on the back of Gulloyne). They'd spent the last hour following salamander tracks to the final battle—and charging up their COASTER all the while.

[COASTER Spell: BUZZER BEATER]

Lars was ice and Hans was lightning. And their combined elemental dynamo now zipped across a jade-lit sky before smashing into the Frostkrill's neck.

[FROSTKRILL Status Effect: SNAP FREEZE]

[FROSTKRILL Status Effect: PARALYSIS]

The twins must've exchanged an ungodly number of passes on their way here—and the result was nothing short of spectacular. What remained of the jade coating over the boss's health bar disintegrated in an instant. So too did ABYSSGAZER's aura fade in its entirety, throwing the proceedings into near-total darkness. The Tomasens' attack proved potent enough to have eaten into the HP proper, halving it a second time.

Now, the Frostkrill itself was well and truly within one-shot territory—as long as the Wayfarer in question could bring the heat. Not only that, but the combined effects of [Snap Freeze] and [Paralysis]—localized though they were to the neck region—temporarily turned the giant prawn into a stranded guppy, writhing in place with no way to fight back.

This was it. The moment of truth. The smiting blow was up for grabs… and the hunting alliance broke down for the last time, proving Renate's warning prophetic.

The twins, with initiative on their side, were the first to act. They gripped their OARs anew, ready to uncoil another [Buzzer Beater] (presumably with a much shorter wind-up!). But their effort was foiled by:

[Auxiliary Technique: TRUEFLIGHT—KALASUTRA]

A spinning wheel of black-green flames. The physical force of Rathor's imbued [Flight] knocked both of the sturgeons out of the picture. In their place, the prince himself squared up to the frozen wound on the Frostkrill's neck, GUNGNIR raised for another throwing mo—

[THE FIFTH DAO—PAULDRON]

A NINEFOLD shoulder barge dislodged the would-be smiter. The impact sent Zacko and Rathor tumbling onto the ice, taking both of them out of contention. Which left…

Whether by uncanny foresight or sheer dumb luck, Serac found herself with a fully loaded cylinder. Zacko had cleared the way, and there was only one thing left for her to do—and only one tool for the job.

[Chamber One: CATHARSIS]

[235!]

[99!], [165!], [329!] -> [593!]

The black flames of Penitence flew true, and a seafaring soul did meet its demise… but it wasn't the Frostkrill! For Hilde the manta-ray woman had spread wide her pectoral fins—bloodied, battered, and mutilated as they were—and thrown herself in front of REVOLVER, thus denying Serac the sure smite.

What is wrong with you? Serac's mind flashed with genuine anger, but even so, she couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse—or was it pity?—at the sight of Hilde's whirling Souldust.

[19,800 क]

It was a lot of Karma, but it wasn't what Serac needed! And even as she scrambled to squeeze the rest of REVOLVER's cylinder for all they were worth, she sensed it was too late.

For the prince had risen again, buoyed and fueled by his devotee's latest act of sacrifice. He fought off Zacko with a dismissive flick of his burning trident, then had the gall to smile at Serac… before he squared up to the Frostkrill to finish what he'd started.

And somewhere below Serac's feet, the dark waters rippled—carrying well-worn memories as much as fresh intent.

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