Before Arkanis's Transformation
Armada was walking thought the streets, about halfway to the coliseum when the feeling settled in his gut. He slowed his pace slightly, eyes drifting across the rooftops and narrow alleys ahead. "Something doesn't feel right," he muttered.
Drimus, walking at his side, turned to him at once. "What do you mean, Lord Armada?"
Armada crossed his arms, gaze unfocused but alert. "It feels like we're being watched," he said after a moment. "And like we're walking straight into a trap."
Drimus froze. His hand snapped to the hilt of his iron sword as he stared at Armada in disbelief. "If you have been feeling that, why didn't you say it before!?" he snapped, already scanning their surroundings. Around them, the nameless demons reacted instantly, steel scraping as swords and axes were drawn.
"Cause," Armada began calmly, lifting his head—
Two gunshots cracked through the air.
CLANG.
Armada's dao was already up, the bullets deflecting off the flat of the blade with a sharp metallic shriek. He didn't even flinch. "—even if they are planning an ambush and stuff," he continued evenly, lowering the weapon as smoke drifted away, "does it matter? I can handle them all easy enough."
He turned his head toward the source of the shot.
On the rooftop of a six-story building stood Amos, twin steam-revolvers still raised, his expression twisted somewhere between shock and dread. "Goddess damnit," Amos muttered under his breath, "why do I have to deal with the one that can block my bullets?"
The demons followed Armada's gaze, all eyes snapping up to the roof.
"Don't just sit around!" Amos yelled suddenly. "Attack them already!"
At the same time, from the rooftop opposite his position, dozens of small metal spheres dropped into the street below.
Armada's eyes narrowed. "Those are definitely bombs," he said flatly. He kicked off the ground and vaulted upwards. "Get out of the way."
Drimus didn't need to be told twice. He leapt clear as the demons scattered in a rush of snarls and heavy footfalls. The explosions came in rapid succession, concussive bursts tearing into the street and sending debris skyward. Smoke and fire swallowed the lower end of the road, though only a handful of demons were caught in the blast.
As the dust began to clear, Armada's attention shifted again.
On the opposite rooftop stood Ulrich, frozen for just a moment, duel cutlasses held tight as he swallowed hard. Armada's lips curled into a grin when he saw the blades.
"Drimus!" Armada called without looking back. "You and the others deal with the shooter. I've got him."
He stepped forward—and the air seemed to fold under his feet.
Armada dashed, not falling but driving himself through empty space toward Ulrich in a blur of motion. Ulrich reacted instantly, rolling backward as Armada came down in a crushing overhead swing. The dao slammed into the rooftop where Ulrich had been standing a heartbeat earlier, stone splitting under the force.
"Come on," Armada said, turning smoothly, "don't run away. Fight like a proper swords—"
He snapped his head back just in time.
Two blades swished through the space his throat had occupied as Edluar burst from concealment, landing in a low stance behind him. Armada straightened slowly, eyes flicking between the half-elf and the bandit lord.
"A sneak attack?" he asked, sounding almost disappointed. "Come on. Is that really something a swordsman would do?"
Edluar clicked his tongue. "Of course it couldn't be that easy," he muttered.
Ulrich exhaled sharply, settling into his stance beside him. "We're fighting a Demon Lord," he said flatly. "Why would it be easy?"
Both of them tightened their grips, steel raised, ready to face him together.
Meanwhile, Drimus motioned sharply, signaling the demons to enter the building and push through toward the roof. He didn't wait for them. With a powerful leap, he launched himself upward, boots striking stone as he landed atop the roof. His iron sword was already in his hand by the time he straightened—and he immediately realized they had underestimated how many people were waiting for them up here.
He didn't have time to take them all in.
Something slammed toward his head.
Lexy was already on him, her arms grotesquely reshaped into massive, gorilla-like limbs as she swung with brutal force. Drimus snapped his blade up just in time, bracing his guard and shifting his stance to roll with the impact. The force still sent him skidding back a step, but he recovered quickly, boots scraping as he steadied himself.
"A changeling?" he remarked, eyes flicking over her altered form. "Wow. Haven't seen one of you in the flesh before."
Lexy glared at him, fists clenched. "Don't talk to me like my punch didn't do anything to you."
Behind her, Amos raised his twin steam-revolvers, the barrels locking into place with a mechanical hiss as he took aim. While keeping them trained on Drimus, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Are you guys going to help," he called out sharply to the imperial knights that were with them, "or just stand there?"
The knights didn't move.
They stared at Drimus instead—confusion plain on their faces.
Drimus frowned. "What?" he asked, genuinely thrown off by their confused looks.
One of the knights stepped forward, lowering his weapon slightly as he studied Drimus more closely. "Do you know Azid?" he asked.
Drimus froze and blinked once.
"That reaction tells me everything I need to know," the knight said calmly. He raised a hand toward Amos and Lexy. "Stand down."
Both of them stared at him in shock.
"What do you mean, stand down?" Lexy demanded.
The knight didn't answer her. He stepped past them and addressed Drimus directly. "Before this turns into a fight," he said, "there's something you need to hear."
Drimus hesitated, then slowly lowered his sword.
Amos and Lexy exchanged uneasy looks as they watched the confrontation shift into something none of them had expected.