Eun shot through different worlds, different eras, different levels of the Tower itself. Horror and wonder flitted by, too fast for her to make sense of. All she knew was that an unimaginable (literally) variety of beings were trying to kill her. She worked her guns as hard as she could, blasting out streams of weaponized theory.
Somewhere between Gehenna and Imajica, the craft sprouted radiant bayonets from its mechanized cannon-arms. They proved useful in Hyperspace Valhalla, where she fought off a horde of sword-wielding spider-centaurs.
As Dissona;s infection spread through the aether, she felt Peter tapping urgently at her mind. She couldn’t make out the exact words, but she got the gist of it: he was saying goodbye.
Oh well. She smiled faintly. We had a damn good run.
And then she heard it: a timeless melody that cut through the dark.
Thaumaturgic brilliance—combat-magics from Kora, Wodec, and a few of the others who knew battlefield arcana—zipped through the air, smashing apart entities left and right. If Lord of the Rings hate-fucked Faces of Death and The Evil Dead, their scrotum-faced lovechild would resemble the monsters flooding onto ANOS’s parking lot. Atrocious fiends that spoke in nerve-shredding tongues, that wielded whips and chains tipped with screaming heads.
It didn’t matter to the Indashi warriors; they were drunk with joy as they parried and cut, trampled and smashed.
“KEEP GOING!” Kora shouted. “YOU ARE FIGHTING NOT JUST FOR ELITHIA, BUT FOR THE ENTIRE—”
“Hark!” Wodec pointed at the sky, now filling with miasmic fog. “Ruin draws nigh! If we are to perish, then make it such an end, that will echo throughout eternity and the Unbound Realm!”
The barbarians responded with a bone-quaking war cry.
Kora smiled grimly. They’d done their best, but it wasn’t enough. Maybe they’d find each other after existence rebooted. Maybe they’d—
Wodec’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Hope lives on! Look to the stars!”
A ray of light cut through the heavens, filling Kora’s eyes with reflected brilliance. Her smile went from grim to joyous.
Give her hell, Peter.