Every corridor they darted toward twisted into a dead end of skittering limbs. The Centerpied's spawn—smaller now, more numerous—had grown cunning. They converged, their sticky, sugar-twisted bodies piling high and hardening into a wall of twisted forms. Like children molding clay, they fused into a grotesque shape.
And then, from the center of the mass, a familiar sneer emerged.
The Centerpied's rat face stretched grotesquely across the surface of the wall, its lips curling into a syrupy, glistening grin. Dozens of red eyes blinked in unison across the surface, and it mocked them without words.
Celeste staggered to a stop, breath caught in her throat.
“We’re out of time,” she murmured. Her blade drooped in her hand, glowing faintly.
C.H.I.P. rotated his arms. “Warning. No viable exit. Suggest initiating last stand protocol.”
Ray tightened her grip on her hammer, eyes narrowing. “You’re way too chipper for a robot about to die.”
C.H.I.P. paused, processing, then his voice shifted. C.H.I.P. spun his arms with a dramatic beep. “Great news, everyone—no exit. Looks like we’re stuck here for a little group hug. Suggesting last stand protocol, because what else can we do? Yay.”
Arcade glanced over from his tablet. “Whoa. What did you do to Ray?”
Ray smirked. “I hope that’s not permanent.”
Mezzo gulped. “I guess I always figured I’d go out cooler than this…”
Pitch didn’t speak—his cards were spent, his breath gone. The old confidence had cracked.
And then—
Everything slowed.
Time itself seemed to buckle, as though the world had paused to listen.
The wall of enemies twitched, stirred. The chittering lessened. The air changed.
The horde parted.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
And from the corridor beyond, two figures stepped through the stillness.
An old goat in a battered coat, dust clinging to his boots, strolling as though he’d simply taken the wrong turn home. And beside him, a small golden glow—Lumina, her hands alight, eyes determined despite the exhaustion pulling at her cheeks.
Hughes exhaled through his nose, brushing sticky threads from his shoulder. “Really?” he muttered, tone dry as ash. “I leave you lot alone for one mission and you turn the sewers into a bloody dessert buffet apocalypse.”
The swarm faltered as they passed, as though some invisible pressure pressed against them. Frost spread under Hughes’ boots, creeping over stone. The air grew sharp, crisp, biting.
“Hughes…?” Celeste gasped, her voice cracking.
With a grunt, the old goat adjusted the pack on his shoulder and cracked his neck. “Had to walk half of Clawdiff Sewers on foot. At my age. You know what that does to my knees?”
Lumina tugged at his coat, her glow steady but her voice small. “We… we got lost. In the tunnels. But then… then we heard the screaming.” She blinked, looking right at Celeste. “Yours.”
Celeste’s breath hitched.
The swarm shifted uneasily, sugar claws scraping against stone, but neither Hughes nor Lumina slowed.
“You’ve made a mess,” Hughes said flatly, frost curling from his cane as he finally stopped in the chamber. “Suppose it’s time to clean it up.”
He lifted one hand with Everstill, his crook.
Attack - Finishing Move - Sands of Eternity
Hughes planted the butt of his crook into the ground, mana flaring up the length of the staff in a spiral of pale gold. With a twist of his wrist, he spun the weapon in a slow circle, tracing sigils into the air.
Above the battlefield, light gathered and bent, condensing into a colossal hourglass suspended in the sky. Its sand shimmered with pure mana, each grain glowing as it trickled downward.
The enemies lurched—first sluggish, then slower still, until their movements dragged like molasses. Every slash of claw, every twitch of muscle, dripped down like grains of sand, pulled inexorably into the hourglass’s narrowing throat. Within moments, the battlefield had fallen eerily silent, foes frozen mid-stride, trapped between seconds.
Hughes raised the crook high, his voice like a tolling bell: “Your time… has run out.”
With a sharp swing, he brought the crook down. The great hourglass shattered, glass and mana exploding outward in a shockwave.
All the stolen moments, all the drained momentum, came crashing back at once. The air detonated with the weight of every strike and every motion the enemies had been denied—slamming into them in a cataclysm of force.
The army crumpled in unison, crushed beneath the very seconds they had lost.
The cold snapped outward in a ring, washing over the horde. The smaller creatures froze mid-motion, their syrupy limbs locked in place as icy veins crept across them. The Centerpied’s rat face snarled—but even it backed away.
The team could breathe again.
Hughes stood beside them now, calm as stone, crook resting across his shoulder like he’d carried it through a thousand wars. He looked at the chamber ahead like he’d been here all along—like he belonged.
“You lot always have to make it bloody dramatic, don’t you?” His voice carried the rasp of age, deep and steady, every syllable edged with the roll of a Welsh lilt.
He lifted the crook, its tip glowing faintly with frost. “Go on then. Deal with the big one. I’ll keep the strays off your backs.”
The group stared, caught off guard by his sudden presence.
Ray broke first, grinning. “Took you long enough, old man.”
Hughes didn’t even glance at her. “Keep yapping, girl, and I’ll let the next bastard chew on you first.”
That earned a laugh, quick and sharp, before the tension settled again.
The chamber was chaos—screams, steel, fire, sugar-chittering, the hiss of syrup against stone.
Hughes had already waded in, frost cracking under his cane as he froze a clutch of Sugar Rushers mid-lunge. But Lumina—wide-eyed and trembling—sprinted past him, her little shield raised too high.
“Lumina, wait—!” Celeste cried.
Too late. A Rushling spotted her, jaw dripping molten sugar, and bounded straight for her throat.
Lumina squeaked, her paws fumbling into a stance she’d half-seen Bracer drill into Celeste. “B-blossom… um… Blossom Feint!”
She spun clumsily on her heel. A burst of glowing petals scattered from her palms like confetti, blinding the creature for an instant. Her foot slipped on the syrup-slick stone, but somehow—through panic, instinct, or sheer luck—her blade flicked upward in a shaky slash.
Shrrk!
The Rushling shrieked as the cut split its candy-glass jaw, the petals burning into it like sparks before it collapsed, dissolving into syrup.
The little shield clattered from Lumina’s grip as she stumbled to the ground, blinking in shock. “I… I did it?”
Mezzo gawked mid-swing. “Did you see that?! She spun! That was like—like a dramatic anime dodge!”
Ray barked a laugh even as she crushed another zombie with her hammer. “More like she tripped into it, but hell, I’ll take it!”
Celeste’s chest swelled, relief cracking through her fear. “That was wonderful, Lumina!” she called, blades flashing as she leapt to cover her.
Lumina’s face flushed crimson. “N-not on purpose,” she stammered, scooping up her shield again. “But… maybe a little bit?”
Hughes smirked, frost misting from his breath. “Clumsy or not—it worked. Now keep swinging.”
Celeste drew a breath, her spine straightening, the fire sparking back in her limbs. “Then let’s finish this.”
Behind them, the wall of sugar and teeth split under a wave of frost. Before them, the final battle waited.
And this time, they weren’t alone.
Time hadn't just slowed—it had fractured, like a cracked lens struggling to hold the scene together.
Ray moved first, her hammer a blur of steel and fury.
Attack - Molten Sweep
The centipede shrieked, its armored body twisting as it barreled through a row of crumbling walls. Celeste and Mezzo slashed across its flanks, while Pitch’s storm of cards dazzled its many eyes. Still, the beast pressed forward, mandibles snapping.
Ray planted her feet, Heartbreaker glowing hot in her hands. Purple fire licked up the hammer’s haft as her eyes narrowed.
“Alright, big guy. Let’s turn up the heat.”
She spun in place, dragging Heartbreaker in a full, sweeping arc. The hammer carved a blazing crescent across the battlefield, the ground beneath it erupting in scorched violet flame. The shockwave caught the centipede’s front legs, searing its armored hide and forcing the creature to reel back with a screech.
The burning crescent lingered, fire crawling hungrily along the ground. Every enemy caught within the sweep howled as the purple blaze clung to their bodies, eating through chitin and shadow alike.
Ray swung Heartbreaker back onto her shoulder, embers crackling in her mane. “That’s right. Come on then—try me.”
The centipede’s hiss turned to a roar, its focus shifting squarely onto her.
Celeste and Mezzo supported from the edges—parrying, distracting, redirecting chaos.
The centipede’s armored bulk slammed against the shattered buildings, its mandibles clacking as it lunged. Celeste darted left, her katanas flashing, but the creature’s sheer size made every strike feel like cutting stone.
“Too slow, Princess!” Mezzo shouted, fire licking off his fur as he skidded past her. “Borrow a bit of this!”
Their eyes met for a split second—his grin wide, her breath ragged. She reached out, brushing his aura with her own. Mana surged into her veins, sparking like wildfire.
Her ribbons flared. Her heart hammered.
And suddenly she was moving like him.
Echo Arts - Mirror - Griffin Blitz
Her speed doubled, every step leaving a comet trail of blue and silver. She dashed through the centipede’s legs in a blur, chaining slashes faster than her mind could keep pace. The air itself seemed to shatter under the rhythm, each cut a beat in a furious melody.
The monster shrieked, staggering as dozens of wounds bloomed across its carapace all at once.
Mezzo howled with laughter, flames trailing from his paws as he joined the assault, weaving in time with her impossible rhythm. Together, they became a storm—fire and starlight tearing through chitin and shadow in perfect tandem.
Pitch’s shotgun, made of layered playing cards, flared with each pull of the trigger, shells rippling through sugarflesh.
Combo - Dealer’s Distraction
The centipede’s many eyes gleamed red as it reared back, mandibles dripping venom. Celeste and Mezzo darted in opposite directions, but its gaze followed them both at once.
Pitch clicked his tongue, rolling a card across his knuckles. “Oi, ugly. Try keeping your eyes on the house rules.”
He snapped his wrist.
A glittering burst of cards exploded from his hand—dozens of glowing spades, hearts, and jokers spiraling into the air like a shower of confetti. They whirled around the centipede’s many faces, dazzling it in a kaleidoscope of shifting symbols.
The beast screeched, thrashing its head as the swarm of light distracted it, its strikes turning wild and clumsy. Venom spat harmlessly against the rubble, its aim thrown off completely.
Pitch smirked, twirling Lady Luck into position. “Heh. Guess accuracy isn’t your strong suit, bug boy.”
Behind the shimmer of cards, Celeste and Mezzo seized their opening—blades and fire striking true while the monster flailed in confusion.
C.H.I.P. followed, his circuits surging, launching calculated shockwaves.
The centipede reared back, mandibles snapping. Celeste ducked, Mezzo darted wide, and Ray braced with Heartbreaker—but before the monster could strike again, C.H.I.P. buzzed forward, circuits glowing hot.
“Alright, bug-face,” the little bot said flatly, sparks dancing across his antenna. “Time for pest control.”
He overloaded in a flash of light, body blurring into streaks of electricity.
WHAM! In mecha form, his first claw slammed into the centipede’s leg, cracking the chitin. BOOM! The second hit drove the limb sideways, forcing the beast to screech and stumble.
“Wow,” C.H.I.P. deadpanned, hovering back. “For something with a hundred legs, you trip real easy.”
He shrank back into his small form, boosters sputtering as he zipped straight up the monster’s face. With a little grunt, he slammed his head into the centipede’s skull—harder than anything his size had any right to manage.
BZZZT!
A spark burst exploded across the creature’s head, lightning crawling over its many eyes. The centipede shrieked, thrashing wildly as smoke poured from its scorched mandibles.
C.H.I.P. bounced back to the ground, antenna spinning smugly. “Headbutt complete. Target electro-fried. You’re welcome.”
Arcade groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Could you at least pretend to be humble?”
“Negative,” C.H.I.P. chirped, voice sharp and cheerful. “Humble doesn’t win boss fights.”
