>LAST TIME
>You had the Meeting from Hell with Twilight Sparkle
>Who has completely gone round the twist.
>Chrysalis made a cameo
>The Cabinet acted up, and someone was playing with your dials, son.
>Twilight stops meeting on grounds of friendly invasion of friends.
>THE WHOLE MOCKS YOU
>This shit, you're having none of it.
>You entered into the crystal and had a talk with a galaxy.
>Said galaxy was evil.
>Embarrasing Trailer-Quotes were said.
>It was revealed - it was another eldritch horror all along!
>The Hecatonchires has been manipulating you for it's own nefarious ends!
>AND NOW
 
>YOU ARE ANON.
>A tiny little speck of light in an empty, heartless universe.
>Before you floats some horrible, twisted mix between a koosh ball and a dead gum tree the size of a galaxy.
>If said tree were made out of metal, and instead of leaves it held the trapped, invaded Songs of ninety nine ponies.
>Their Songs are uncanny and distrubing, like watching a puppet play and hearing the voices from their mouths, not from the dark core behind the stage.
>It's a very "I have no mouth and I must Scream" moment.
>"This changes nothing," says the Hecatonchires, it's voice deep and resounding, "If I cannot take over Equestria and Undo What Was Done, then I shall destroy it, and become the Gravestone."
>You blink.
>You also do ... something.
>You feel like it should be the equivalent of a blink, but ... not, so.
>It's like you're you, but you're not you.
>Like a different, much more older version of you.
>It's like suddenly instead of that tiny part of your brain being something else, and the rest you, it's now all of your body that is that ancient, terrible thing.
>And you can't pinpoint where 'You' start and this other 'You' begins.
>These strange alien musings are cut short when the Hundred Armed thing begins using said arms to stroke itself towards you; a bizarre water-beetle rowing along the pond of your Inner Space.
>...oh god you are inside yourself.
>Oh god this thing is inside yourself.
>Oh god this thing is horrific
>And is eating your Songs.
>And then it's going to eat YOU.
>OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOO-
>You react viscerally, and pull your Might, your Strength, your Will to you.
>You feel energy build up inside you, and then release as a blast of energy thwacks the Rudder of Souls.
>The writhing, tentacular form brings up its stolen songs in front of it, and your energy dissipates over them.
>Crap, it's using your Songs to redirect your Might!
>You can't hurt it!
>You look at the weird, horrifying, gigantic juggernaut as it approaches, it's huge rounded metallic bulky undulating towards you like a giant ameoba.
>And when it get's to you, it's going to tear you apart.
>And you can't fucking hurt it.
>You have no idea how you're going to beat this thing.
>So, clearly the best strategy is to tactically advance.
>...directly AWAY from the Hundred-Armed Horror.
>You turn and think about doing the whole running thing.
>Instead you soar like superman, a streaking comet through the void, Dancing with speed and grace.
>You feel wounded however, having has the Hecatonchires shoved it's arm through your chest and into your MIND.
>You don't feel like you're moving as fast as you have in the past.
>Whenever THAT was.
>And the amount of void between you and the Hecatonchires is slowly but surely shrinking.
>And each time, you can hear the Songs get closer, then closer, then closer again.
>You know you can't outrun it.
>It will enevitably catch you.
>And you can't hide, with absolutely jack and shit many light years around.
>And you can't hurt it, not when you're alone and only able to hit it from one direction.
>And you know it would be follow to dare try and fly, unexperienced and isolated as you are, amongst it's arms and stroke at its skull.
>So, what the fuck do you do, Anon!?
>You think about how various ponies would deal with this.
>You can hear each 'swoop' it makes with it's arms, using your Songs like paddles to move.
>Cadence would use the Power of Love.
>...Yeah, not going to work.
>You feel more than hear the grinding metal screech closer.
>Shining would do some fancy magic.
>But your magic wouldn't work.
>That cancels out Twilight and Luna and Celestia and Trixie.
>Although mainly because you don't think you have anything it values deeply to ruin and threaten.
>You can sense the bloody smell of rust getting stronger.
>Focus Anon, think!
>What about King Quartz?
>Well, he'd be stuck being the puppet of-
>Something Quartz said earlier, suddenly strikes you.
>"I'm so sorry, Anon," he said, "I hate doing this, I really do, but...I'm merely a single Song amongst many."
>You're not quite sure whether it was the Prince of Lies behind you or Quartz speaking from the Prince of Lies, all to cover himself in a duplicitous game to both conquer and twist you, but it suddenly makes you aware of all the stars in the sky.
>Namely, all the Songs in the sky.
>So, you Sing to them.
>You Sing about how the ones you love are enslaved against our will.
>You Sing about how you've been put in an impossible position, used and mangled by an ancient horror.
>Then you delicately Sing about the fact that IT HAS BROKEN FREE AND IS TRYING TO FUCKING KILL YOU.
>AND THEN THEM.
>AND THEN EVERYTHING ELSE.
>The stars remain dim and distant, twinkling.
>So you Sing Louder.
>Still nothing.
>You Sing you lungs out, loud and clear and-
>HURK!
>You feel something coil around you, as a Song all but slams into you.
 
>A familiar Song.
>In a deep, Barry White Baritone.
>You watch in shock as the ghostly soul of Grand Master Framework glares at you.
>He Sings in anger and anguish that you'd turn your back on the Whole like that, to deny it's truth, to not surrender yourself to it as you should.
>You're momentarily boggled.
>When the hell did that happen!?
>He Sings back when you sucked his dick, and the Whole connected with him, filling him with truth.
>You look down at the long arm, oustretched, that has contorted and wrapped around your leg, and is reeling you into the swirling mass of angry, grinding metal.
>You look up at Framework, whose Song is pleading and angry, offering to let you suck his cock as much as you want, because you like it so much.
>...yeah, nah.
>You backhand Framework.
>He bounces away, struggling at the end of the arm, which still continues to grip your leg firmly.
>You reach down and unleash your Might at it, causing the arm to twist, coil and bleed.
>The stars on the arms scream as the Hundred Arms One grunts, soldiering on through the pain and continuing to drag you in.
>You unleash your Might again and again at the arm, causing it to break and bleed and tear.
>It feels like you're slowly draining and diminishing yourself with every hit.
>The stars scream and whimper as you flay away at the tendril, causing it to struggle.
>Mid struggle you get your leg free, and you quickly soar away, the trapped Songs pleading for you to save her from this horrible fate.
>And you want to.
>They're Singing in fear, in pain, in anguish at being torn from you, the reality of their situation sinking in, the lies of the Hundred Arm Horror slackening from your onslaughtm, their Songs desperate, pleading, tugging at your copious amounts of Feels.
>It physically harms you to run from them.
>It feels like your abandoning a part of your very soul to this thing, and it tears at you.
>But you have to get outta dodge, othrewise you'll lose the rest of yourself to this bloody thing.
>The Hecatonchires is finally close enough to flail after you, however.
>CRAZY IVAN!
>You jink, duck and weave, the Ender of Lores able to hit nothing but empty space as you throw your Might behind you indiscriminately.
>One manages to hit something, and the Rudder of Souls recoils like a killed spider.
>However, it's scream and grunt startles you, and an errant movement of an arm whams into your side, causing it shimmer weirdly, like jigsaw pieces in a box suddenly shaken and jumbled.
>You scream in agony as you tumble through the void, pain flaring from your lungs outwards.
>You swear, curse, otherwise spew hate at this thing that hurt you.
>It replies in kind in a strange, twisted, horrible tongue.
>You soar off, bleeding stardust, hurt and weakening, tears blurring your eyes.
>You are going to die Anon.
>What is it with you and pissing off really, really powerful beings!?
>You open your eyes and it's there.
>Right in front of you.
>With nothing between you and it but a little, empty distance.
>Well, you are officially fucked now Anon.
>This is even more fucked than being on the moon, being held down, mere inches from being Cockslutted by Twilight.
>Maybe equally as fucked when you were back in the jail, about to die.
>...maybe not as fucked as when you repainted the Royal Apartment from pink to Not-Pink.
>But, something tells you this won't be quick, or merciful.
>As the tearing, angry ball of metal growls closer, you look at the stars, desperate for help.
>And you notice that they're a lot closer than you thought.
>A LOT closer.
>Alright Anon, the cavalry is coming.
>And you are damn close to getting ground into paste.
>It is time to Duck and/or Weave like Mohammad and/or Ali.
>You keep your eyes on the tentacled behemoth, soaring left and right, up and down.
>It's like a weird reverse version of Starfox cross Raiden X, where you're moving backwards, and a metric ton of enemies are coming at you.
>The souls of tortured ponies wail and gnash and scream and cry, their pained songs distracting and hurting you.
>The arms come close to touching you again, but you twist and rise and jink and Dance like you want to win.
>The Songs flail again, the Hecatonchires' snarling skull gushing with slick, black fluid, but you lower, speed up, slow down.
>You look up just as a shining Song reaches you.
>It Sings SPEED to you, smacking into your face and sticking to you.
>It then floats quickly away, dragging you WITH ALL DUE HASTE away from the Hecatonchires.
>The Hecatonchires surges towards you, but two more Songs stick to you, and you find yourself soaring out of reach.
>You turn and watch, the Hundred Armed ball of screeching death writhing impotently as star after star, Song after Song, slams into you.
>And very quickly the Universe is empty, sans you and the Rudder of Souls.
>And you FEEL sensations, memories and words and thoughts roughly getting shoved into your mind as the Orchestra of Songs around you rise, and you stop becoming your own voice, but literally BECOME the Chorus.
>You feel yourself growing larger with the thoughts, growing in strength, size and speed.
>You are no longer Anonymous the Teeny Tiny Itty Bitty Twinkie Pinkie Squishy.
>You are Anonymous, The Mighty Fortress of God.
>You feel awesome and magnificent, but mostly awesome.
>And bizarrely, exactly the same.
>You think.
>I mean, for some odd reason you think it's perfectly normal to drink stallion cum, have Shining and Cadence as your sex slaves, have Slutbra as a stallion on your back, and you want to vote monarchist.
>Imagine that!
>Voting Monarchist!
>How quaint.
>Your interospection is broken by an annoying ball of chainsaw metal that must pay for sundering you, hurting you, DEPRIVING you of your very SOUL.
>You hear the Songs that make you up wail, moan and gnash, and they flood with ancient anger.
>It ignites your seething hatred at this cancerous thing,
>It may be small, but you know all too well that this little thing is like a really, really vicious chihuahua.
>Or pitbull.
>Well, you'd say pitbull, but you've encountered some chihuahuas in your time.
>Oh, sure, they look so small, and they look so innocent, even when their mouths are splattered with possum blood.
>And you know that your Might isn't going to harm it.
>And it's just about TO FUCKING TEAR INTO YOUR SOUL OH GOD-
>Before the rest of your Orchestra can react, you reflexively move your arm in an arc into the face of the 'bitch', in a motion one might describe as a 'slap'.
>....FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK!
>It feels like you just put a drill into and then through your hand.
>The Songs that make up your hand SCREAM in distress, and you cradle your arm like a fucking pussy.
>What did you expect was going to happen when you backhand a being that is essentially a ball-shaped chainsaw!?
>The pain goes away eventually, the Stars reforming your limb, but you watch as the Hundred Armed Foe rockets off from the momentum, screaming in it's warped tongue, the Songs on it's arms wailing.
>Through the Chorus of Voices comes a conclusion, which arrives just as you figure it out: While your Might won't harm it, surrounded by Songs as it is, you can still move it around by hitting it, just like when you backslapped Framework.
>And if you hit it into Outer Space, then you, and the rest of You, will be saved from being butchered by this grinding, spinning, whirling doom.
>Genius, Anon!
>You zoom after it.
>The twirling, flowing, angry orb slows, but not before you backhand it again.
>With each satisfying thwack your hand SCREECHES and SCREAMS and WAILS, but it knows that it's necessary, to save the Whole.
>With each thwack the Hecatonchires becomes angrier, its Songs screaming and wailing, delirious and overwhelmed by the Rudder of Souls own fury as it unleashes it's anger at the closest available targets.
>And with each smack you feel tears begin to edge into your eyes from their pain, knowing their suffering is partially your fault, their emotions as well as yours and every other Song wailing and crying for them.
>You begin to feel emotionally drained, your chest tight, nose runny, throat sore, and you feel yourself begin to sob.
>Take a teaspoon of cement and harden the fuck up, Anon!
>This shit needs doing!
>You carry on, the dark void lightening to a crystal blue.
>Soon, you can feel the edges of your Inner Space, like the glossy surface of a motionless pool.
>With a mighty usage of the Anon-God Pimp Hand, you send the Hecatonchires whirling into Outer Space, like a bowling ball dropped into said motionless lake, sending ripples out as it splashes through the surface.
>Except while it travels through, the Souls on its hands don't.
>They make noises that shouldn't be made, traumatized by the pulling and yanking on their very souls into a realm where they cannot be.
>And the Hecatonchires uses these impromptu anchors to slingshot itself into your chest.
>The first experience is slight surprise.
>Then AGONIZING PAIN.
>Songs are torn away, thrown to the void as your chest feels like it collapses under the assault.
>Which is where your lesser self is.
>You try and wrench a hand or something into your chest to remove it, but you can't get at it, and the pain and agony blinds and disorientates you.
>The orchestra is awry, the chorus is something form hell, full of agony and pain and terror and horror and violation.
>You quickly think, once again of who would have the best solution to this curious problem.
>what would Shining do in this situation?
>He's like the Wizard Duelist Shell Master, what would he do?
>Well, if he were comprised of many little pinpricks of light, would it be a sane and reasonable thing to form a humanoid body, compact and easily grindable, instead of being absolutely ANYTHING OTHER SHAPE?
>You quickly send out the call - QUICK NIGGERS, SCATTER!
>You disperse into a cloud of stars and move away from the vicious assault.
>Holy Crap this is trippy.
>You're less yourself and now several different ponies, their memories and thoughts overwhelming yours.
>You are dragged a distance away by some fast stars, then quickly reform yourself.
>Jeeze that was weird.
>The rest of your Songs agree.
>Many songs float and drift listlessly, tired and traumatized, who do not answer your call, like your blood pooling and floating in the absence of gravity.
>You feel smaller, weaker, tired, traumatized, agonized and emotionally drained.
>You're not huffing and puffing with exertion, but you feel like you should be.
>The Hecatonchires stares you down, battered, bruised, and infuriated.
>Okay, this isn't going to work. Every time you push it out, it's just going to pull itself back in.
>Unless you were able to get this stupid fucking thing out of you for good.
>But how?
>If only you could laser the bloody thing.
>You remember a couple of days ago, when you reached deep into your ancient self and removed the Anchor of Loss from premises.
>How you channeled your Might from yourself, shooting into Outer Space and vaporizing it.
>But in order to do that, you needed to expose yourself to the Outer Space, to act as the focus of your Might.
>A plan sparks into the hamsterwheel of your brain.
>...it'd be risky, but it just might work.
>The rest of your Songs aren't so sure it's a good move listening to the hamsterwheel.
>It doesn't even have a hamster in it for goodness' sa-
>When the fuck have you ever listened to anyone else when doing something that is a 'wrong move'?
>You try to pull yourself together, literally.
>The Hecatonchires advances, getting ready to once again launch itself at you.
>You summon up all your strength and will, and glare at this bitch.
>You summon up your inner pimp.
>...oh hey, you actually have several inner pimps.
>And they all say the same thing.
>You wind up.
"Fuck off!"
>You smack the Hecatonchires with the fist of an angry god.
>The Steerer of Souls once again breaches the surface, but this time around you are ejected from your chest, and you smack into the Boundary, sticking there.
>Beyond is the sky, the sun still blaring from its spot in the sky.
>Silhoueted against it is your foe, a black cage, a trap about to slam shut.
>It's momentarily stunned by the move.
>From the ballsiness or stupidity of it, you know not.
>Nor care.
>You summon up Your Might, contorting the surface of your body.
>You don't have time to summon up all of it right now, with your Whole fractured as it is.
>The Hecatonchires disengages some of its arms to attack you, rip you, tear you-
>You throb red, your Might building.
>The arms stop mere inches from you.
>You feel the air move around your face as the fingers freeze.
>Is that the look of shock upon the brow of the Rudder of Souls?
>The Chorus of your Soul reaches a wailing crescendo-
>The Ender of Lores quickly reconsiders, and disenges all its arms, wrapping them around itself-
>You unleash your Might.
>The metal shell of the Hundred Armed Horror is illuminated whiter than the sun.
>Before it shoots away, your Might flowing off and around its shell.
>The flow of your Might ends, as the Hecatonchires soars over Empire, before bouncing across the ground, through several buildings and over some hills.
>...Holy Fuck.
>That was fucking close.
>You literally put yourself in harms way to use a laser point blank at something that a few moments ago made a mess of your metaphysical chest.
>You sigh, falling back into yourself.
>You drift, watching as the traumatised, floating Songs are gathered and hugged and Sung to by weary, active stars, that they're safe, that's everything is okay.
>You smile, as they slowly drift to you, tired and drained.
>Soon you are wrapped in a blanket of glittering light and emotions, relieved and relaxing, but sad and traumatized.
>Several of the Stars aren't even Singing.
>You are hurt in a way you can't even properly fathom.
>You could just chill here indefinitely right now.
>Reclaim some of your lost Might, heal and repair.
>But you know that bastard will come back shortly, especially after a half shot like that.
>Especially how little damage you did to those arms at point blank with all of your Might as your lesser self.
>But your remember it recoiled earlier, when you were throwing your Might indiscriminately.
>So you must have hit a weak spot.
>Most likely that skull.
>You take a breath, bathing in the music, then turn your attention back outwards.
>You see a straight scar in the land, over hills and through trees and buildings, with a metallic sphere at the end of it.
>You watch it stir and crack open, before it begins to tear into the ground.
>Maybe for protection?
>A memory shoots through you.
>"And, as it turns out, the Crystal veins criss-cross the ENTIRETY of Empire!" says Glittering Facet, jumping "It's literally the biggest mass of crystal in the world!"
>Red Buffet simply sighs.
>This is the WORST date. EVAR.
>...that wasn't yours.
>But it strikes fear into you in a primal way.
>It could get back into you, by digging down into the crystal!
>SHIT.
>You Sing, to draw your blood into yourself, feeling the crystal ponies sink into your crystalline skin.
>Your Song feels invigorated, flooding with purpose and strength for the infusion of your blood.
>A familiar, sensuous presence parks itself in your chest.
>You smile, feeling yourself flow into Slutbra's Song.
>She FEELs concern, both at your ragged Song, as well as the giant arm-ball of infinite suffering you just lasered.
>You FEEL back that you're alright, that you survived, but this needs to be finished.
>You feel Whole again, just like when you fired the laser last time, like when you sang in front of the church.
>You assume direct control.
>You fold, shift, controt, twisting the part of your body called the 'Crystal Palace' into a flower with you at the centre.
>You throb red violently, feeling like blood is pumping through you, your ears thumping.
>With a rising screech, you build up what Might you have, then with a choral wail you unleash it.
>You watch with mounting horror as the beam splatters against the Hundred Arm Horror's arm shield.
>In a second, the Hecatonchires quickly shields itself, throwing a couple of arms up in the way of your Might.
>It holds, and the Hecatonchires continues to dig.
>Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!
>How are you going to deal with this shit!?
>Every second this thing is getting closer to getting back inside you.
>You feel anxious and fearful, scared shitless, coming apart at the seams, as your Orchestra falls to panic.
>Clearly, having something tear chunks out of your soul is not a good thing.
>Quick, who could help you?
>Your fracturing mind and soul quickly jumps on two who could-
>"Shining and Cadence!" Slutbra sears into your mind through your heart.
>You quickly focus into yourself and quickly find two squirming pulsating things inside you, one pink, one white.
>You fight to stop yourself from being violently ill.
>You Love these simulcra that resemble 'ponies', but the Whole, the Hecatonchires, whatever was right.
>They seem to be like cancerous growths, their every action an affront to your existance, to your Life, to You.
>You have to fight off shivering in disgust and horror from the knowledge that you are inside them, and they inside you.
>You feel like they're dumping sewerage into your very VEINS just by BREATHING.
>But these two...
>You love these two.
>Ponies were never really your thing, and they treated you poorly when you first met, but over time you've learnt to overcome.
>To overcome your hatred at them.
>To overcome your general dislike of ponies in general
>To overcome being the third wheel.
>To overcome heterosexuality.
>And by God in Heaven, you will overcome this!
>Even if you haven't overcome vigourous cadiac excersize with your legs or the colour pink, you will perservere!
>You reach down, and grab the two bulbous things, feeling yourself do something that could be likened to wretching.
>You pull them to you, their squeels and twisting and contortions sickening you in a deeply primal way.
>Soon they are within reach.
>You FEEL things, their terror, their shock, their awe.
>Yeah, yeah, bask in my glory - GET THE FUCK OVER HERE.
>They are quickly whisked under your arms.
>It literally feels like there is shit in your mouth.
>Except your mouth is your body.
>It's like using a part of your body you never knew existed, sensative and vital like an eyeball, and then just dumping the water that accumulates at the bottom of a garbage bin into it.
>"Anon, are you okay!?" yells Cadence, into your chest and in real space.
>You infantiley grunt and point at the cloud of arms, tearing into the dirt.
"Need to kill before hurt again!" you blurt out, desperate.
>Shining and Cadence look, startled.
>"What, how?" gibbers Shining.
"Lasers!" you grunt, shivering with disgust.
>Shining blinks, then adopts a serious expression.
>Cadence looks from you to Shining, feeling confused and scared, before nodding.
>"Alright, let's do this!" she exclaims.
>You Sing to your Whole and blood, of love.
>Of how despite how these writhing bodies, weeping like pussy sores, and breathing foulness, you are still holding them close to you.
>Of how you love them, and the Whole, and the Empire, and how it might be lost if this thing isn't dead in a short amount of time.
>Your panic ridden Whole gets the message, sending their love, affection and admiration to you.
>"Now Anon," says Cadence, uneasy, "warn me before you-"
>You apply the metaphorical electrical clips to the Cadence, and love floods into her.
>She grunts, teeth clenching, aerosolized saliva spittling and drooling over everything.
>But you feel something else pour into her through your heart and into her crystal.
>You once again fight yourself being violently ill.
>It's now like you are chewing the shit, feeling the warmth in your mouth, the taste sickening, overwhelming as slushy liquid oozes out over your gums.
>"Disregard the constabulary!" you hear Geo yell from somewhere.
>You shake your head as the Chorus Sings at you.
>Focus! Anon, you need to keep it together and maintain your colours, or something or other, otherwise the Hecatonchires will fuck you over!
>Cadence's eyes suddenly snap open, and she gasps.
>She twitches and shivers, sweat forming on her brow, indeterminate negative emotions suddenly being dumped into your chest.
>It's insignificant compared to the anxieties of thousands that is slowly tearing you apart.
>Why isn't she firing a laser beam of Love and Friendship at this thing already!?
>You feel something move into her, through her, around her.
>She screeches, and you watch as the crystal sudden flows over and through her.
>It feels like you are swallowing a piece of the shit now, the excrement going into your stomach and the taint getting into your nose up through the throat.
>The Hecatonchires is now quickly disappearing from sight, soon you won't be able to hit it-
>She twitches, moans, grunts, and with a final gasp-
>You hear her Sing, her voice crystal clear and beautiful, as the pink beam shines onto the ground like a battleship's searchlight over approximately where the Hundred Armed Horror would be.
>The ground suddenly shudders, and a noise of pure anger, fury, loss and sadness hits you like a tsunami.
>The Rudder of Souls vacates its hole, writhing and tearing about uncontrollably, the beam continuing to shine on it.
>But you're too distracted by the fact that you just turned Cadence into a Crystal Pony.
>I mean, holy shit!
>You just turned Cadence into a Crystal Pony!
>"Anon!" yells Shining, bumping you and pointing.
>You turn and see the struggling, shaking form of the Hecatonchires.
>It's out in the open, prey to your predatorial Higher Dimensional Love Laser!
>You hear the Songs, reinvigorated by the sight, desperate to end this once and for all, dumping their Might into you.
>You throb red, unfolding and refolding your main body to get more Power.
>With a wailing screech, your Might lances out-
>The Hecatonchires hears the wail, and desperately struggles to move it's arms up-
>The beam strikes and flows off the Ender of Lores, burning the ground.
>Using it's impromptu arm shield, it begins to dig again, Cadence's pink light causing it to shiver and slowing it's progress into the ground, but you don't think you can kill it.
>Anxiety once again floods you.
>"Anonymous!" you hear Shining yell, "Let me aim for-"
>You turn, and dump your Might into him without thinking.
>He too twists and contorts and shakes and shivers.
>You once again proverbially chew the shit in your metaphorical mouth, but if anything you chew faster, knowing what's happening.
>Kind of.
>You watch as he REVS the magic, steeling against the agony that travels through him to you.
>You FEEL it a little more acutely now, the Whole feeling less extreme anxiety and more despaired.
>You swallow the last of the crap in your mouth, leaving a terrible aftertaste, but at least it's no longer in your mouth.
>He grunts, groans, then gasps, before his Song joins Cadence's.
>Their Songs entwine with yours and Shining's, a quartet
>You feel your Might build up in Shining, and he cooly manipulates it.
>His song melds with Slutbra's, knowledge of the crystal and how it works calmly flowing through him.
>He fires off a small amount of your Might, low on the Hecatonchires.
>The Foe angles the shield downwards to meet the blast.
>The beam bounces off his arm shield and into the ground, tunneling deep.
>This however causes the Hundred Arm terror to bounce upwards off the ground.
>Shining readies a shot, but you know what he wants, you can FEEL it through Slutbra.
>You quickly Sing to the crystal, causing it to rapidly grow up through the hole made by Shining's blast.
>It quickly morphs into a panel, angled just so.
>Cadence redoubles her efforts, causing the Hundred Arm Terror, unsettled by his sudden airborne flight, to struggle to move.
>It simply moves as many arms to form a shield between you and it.
>You all collectively smirk.
>Just as planned.
>Shining drops the laser onto the panel below the Hecatonchires.
>The laser bounces off the panel, straight up through the unprotected centre of the beast.
>It freezes.
>There's no poetic lines about lost love.
>There's no screams, cries, final quotes, begging or pleading.
>A pillar of light just appears out the top of the Rudder of Souls, the Ender of Lores, the Hundred Arm Terror, and lances into the sky.
>There's a muted explosion, a sound of crumpling and crunching, and the arms come apart, falling to the ground like so many dropped worms, along with a rain of black, inky liquid, like tar.
>You're breathing heavily, completely stunned.
>The thing that worried you, gnawed at you, tore you to pieces a thousand thousand years ago with it's lies, the thing you managed to imprison through your fractured blood with great sacrifice, the beast that broke free and violated you, was no more.
>Destroyed with the Power of Love and Friendship and Hate.
>You breathe a collective sigh of relief, holding Cadence and Shining close to you, weeping in joy.
>They seem confused and befuddled, curiously testing their voices.
>You smile pleasantly, touching their stars as the Whole rises in crescendo, exhaultant in victory, but mournful for your loss, your pain, your hardship...