It was the Underseer, the Hell-Train of the Bloodwurm Tunnels! A monstrosity of Magitech so overwhelming that only four were needed to purge the entirety of Vintergard's subterranean labyrinth! Compared to the DEAD.naught, its responsibilities were tenfold! Compared to XS-Eve, its size was hundredfold! Compared to just three Regulators, its uniqueness was thousandfold! The Underseer indeed, fourth of its kind, armed with plasma weaponry to melt organics like slag and smash through fortifications with mass!
Indeed, perhaps as a favor, it'll wipe out these meager Starcalled for those patrolling goons who had nothing going for them other than their ability to retreat. Perhaps it'll enjoy lording over them afterwards. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps! And how cute! It didn't even have to go after them itself, when one of those Starcalled deigned to run right up to it and toss…oh, just a teenie weenie speck of dust? Miserable creatures, these Saviors were. Let it show them all what tr-
Dark matter contacted matter, and the reaction was such that a cataclysmic explosion erupted, shattering the Underseer's singular azure lens and sending its titanic form careening into dilapidated building. It screeched out in indignation, radio static bursting out at a high enough volume to disperse the dust clouds that clogged up its combustion systems, but by the time it rose up, there was no one else around.
With a single strike, Cepheid (@Jester) had knocked it astray for a mere handful of seconds. And in that handful of seconds, the battle had, in its entirety, left that Underseer behind.
But Emergency Response continued their skirmishing combat style.
And Old Fashion continued to endure.
Blow upon blow. Absorbing damage for her sisters, best she could. What warrior would she be if she didn't draw the ire of the Saviors, after all? @Nyancy's blast of frost mixed with @Aerial's vortexes, the magical attacks synergizing into a hailstorm that tore holes into the heavily damaged chassis of the Regulator. From behind as well, @Schilva Flasch and Twin Turbo Kai Ni surged forth, the swordsman and his steed harnessing the very vacuum left in their wake to suck back in their teammates hailstorm bullets to strike their foe from behind! Never one to linger though, the fastest man alive leapt sky-high with the turbo-speed of his steed.
Hard Plume moved to intercept, but @Cynna's smokescreen popped up just in time, obscuring everyone's positioning from her thermal-vision. Accursed rabbit. If they were so intent on hiding, then she'd blast them all away! With no one drawing her attention elsewhere, the azure-armored Magia ground her wheels against wings of the Dragonship, dropping low as she entered the smokescreen as well. Once inside, all it took was a single burst of her internal purging system, and the dark smoke scattered, revealing…Cynna, Madison, but not Schilva.
He had gotten past, too far now for her Displacer to reach. Far enough that Baby Magnum fired at him instead, anti-material bullets barely grazing the swift rider.
Fine.
They knew what was coming.
The Regulator's Cannon roared in tune with the Sheriff's Rifle. Baby Magnum's second main cannon was disabled, and in return, @Madison Freebird and Cynna were airborne. Tumbling through space, the fragile platform they so gallantly galloped upon giving away from the force of that thunderous clap, those ten thousand steel arrows. For a moment, there was only fear. And then, in the next, there was only instinct. King Halo contorted its body and landed on all fours, its hooves plunging straight into concrete, its countenance unphased as it leapt into a sprint one step later, leaving no consideration for the near-shattering of Madison's pelvis. Rice Shower, more skilful than that prideful ruler, kicked off pieces of falling debris to right itself, then to slow itself, a frenetic display of physics-defying reflex that saw the Magisteed land with its rider safely. Though bloodied and bruised, they were nevertheless alive.
And their blood would feed @Jin's own Hemomancy.
A scythe profane. A scythe monstrous. A scythe to slice through ancient steel and clockwork gears, to extinguish a consciousness too archaic to have ever been backed up in Handler-1's database.
A scythe, demonic.
Enough.
Blood magic struck Old Fashion's frame and vaporized on contact, the Regulator's entire form spilling out with unstable energy. And, grilling a sandwich, her hands closed in on Jin and Famine from both sides, enclosing them in a blinding inferno so hot that neither could even screen, before lifting them up and smashing them head-first into the ground. Even at a distance, Nyancy could feel her skin bubble, blister at the intense temperatures. Could see too, the charred, disfigured form of Jin tumbling against the ground, bouncing back up onto his feet, and reaching out to grasp at…
…reins that were no longer there.
Famine had released him. The Magisteed had always possessed the pedigree of nobility, possessed an outsized pride despite their many failings, and through it, redefined what victory was. One could always fight again. Could always lose again. Could always win again. But for a creation born unto Arcia, one could only die once.
Famine alone decided how they would die.
Sanguine thorns burst out from the Magisteed's chest, entangling with Old Fashion's form. As the Magisteed's legs failed, its deceleration caused its own Core to be wrenched out from its frame, the ball of Hemomantic Magitech hurtling towards the armored titan before erupting into a hundred and fifty crimson skewers. Enough to sunder the titan's breastplate, to reveal the overclocked engine within, the critical state that it was in.
She had said her farewells. She too was free to decide how she would die.
And so, Old Fashion ran.
The Dragonhead loomed, as did the gun turrets still active. And with the approach of Schilva, the approach of all Starcalled, of the sparking Baby Magnum, the furious Hard Plume, and the Old Fashion who would take out as many as she could with her, the turrets began to turn, began to warm up, and began to fire.
It was a bullet hell indeed, a bullet hell upon a wasteland decorated by the memorabilia of fallen Starcalled and wrecked Magia.
And in that hell, the steelcraft bird shed its feathers, creating a sanctuary from the storm, if only barely.
At this distance from Camp Hope IV, communications was no longer possible, but it appeared Lady Wisteria would offer what assistance she could to the end.
