As the Magitek soldiers closed in, Ignis had little time to worry about the earth-shaking steps of the Rogue drawing closer or the proximity of the gelatinous daemons as they inched past him and focused their attention wholly on the imperials. But he couldn't avoid worrying about Iris as he launched her overhead and straight into the middle of imperial ranks for a chance to halt the emperor's progress.

In all fairness, she did stop Aldercapt from climbing aboard the Magitek engine. And, despite her age, she was a competent fighter.

She was also unarmed and outnumbered twenty to one.

She forced Aldercapt to the ground, pinning him with relative ease. But she could only restrain him so long as she held contact, and the other man—stout and armored in red, presumably one of Nifhleim's generals—dragged her off before she could do any more damage.

Ignis redoubled his efforts to reach her. He drove one dagger into the neck of an MT and lifted the other to deflect an incoming blow, ignoring the pain as the axe skimmed across the side of his wrist. He pulled both daggers and removed the second MT's head before turning to the next. No time to stop.

Ahead, Iris danced and dove around the imperial general, keeping out of his reach. He brought his blade down and it skimmed the edge of her skirt before embedding in the pavement. She needed a weapon—even a makeshift on. Anything to keep him at bay.

Ignis slammed his knife through the metal head of the closest MT, twisted it, and released. He reached for his lance and found it precisely where it was meant to be—just outside of reality.

"Iris!" He shifted his grip and threw it straight for her, uttering a silent prayer that she would catch it in her hand and not, for instance, in her stomach.

She turned with one arm out—whether because she expected trouble from his tone or because she somehow knew his plan from two uttered syllables, he couldn't fathom. Either way, she twisted, caught the staff of the lance, and directed its momentum into a strike at her opponent.

That was the best Ignis could do for her; he would simply have to trust in her strength. If he wasted any more time worrying about her, he would lose his head well before she did. He took up both his daggers again and turned his attention to the battle in full.

It became something of a dance where a single toe out of place would mean death. If he stumbled—if he forgot the next step—any one of those blades could catch him unaware—or else he would leave himself open to the sporadic spray of gunfire, which came unpredictably from any given direction. Even between the three of them and their daemon—allies?—the MT numbers hardly seemed to diminish. It took another minute before he realized this was because more were falling from the sky.

Ignis chanced a glance. Two more Magitek engines hovered overhead; a handful of blue streaks slammed into them, one after another, as blades sprouted from the black metal and the Kingsglaive materialized.

And not a moment too soon.

He was still dead center of a growing mass of Magitek soldiers, but he was making progress toward Iris. And Iris was managing to hold her own. She had herself wedged between Aldercapt and his general; whenever the emperor tried to slink past her, she made liberal use of her polearm and knocked his feet out from under him. The extra reach allowed her to keep both MTs and the general at more than arm's length—but she was on her own against the gunfire.

Ignis thrust his dagger into the neck of the last MT between them, threw it into its allies to knock one or two off balance, and closed ranks with Iris. By the time he reached her, she had blood dripping down her cheek and a deep red hole in her arm from a shot she had taken.

"Looking a little worse for the wear," he said.

"You're no spring daisy, yourself."

Yes. Well. The blood in this shirt was unlikely to come out anytime soon, but in all likelihood the holes and burn marks were what would make it unsalvageable, not the stains.

Iris swept her lance and held the incoming MTs at bay. The general swung, hoping to take advantage of her distraction, but Ignis stepped forward to deflect his blade with one dagger and search for a gap in his armor with the other. He found a notch and pushed with his full weight—something gave way; the general cried out and lurched backward.

"Reinforcements!"

Ignis hadn't even noticed how close Cor had gotten until he called out right by Ignis' ear.

At the other end of the lot, a line of cars rounded the corner—headlights blinding against the surrounding night. Hopefully the marshal meant those were their reinforcements, rather than imperial ones. Indeed, he could think of no reason why MTs would be driving cars.

"Hold the line," Cor said.

"I hate to break it to you." Iris shoved an MT back and plunged her lance through it and the one behind it in one motion. "But there isn't really a line."

"Then make one!"

Iris shot Ignis a long-suffering look.

"A triangle, perhaps?" Ignis suggested.

"Just shut up and fight," Cor growled.

Those who poured out of the cars wore a mix of Crownsguard uniforms and fatigues, though some—presumably those who had been at the signing—were dressed formally as members of the government. They slammed into the MTs' outer ranks, pulling much of the pressure off Ignis, Iris, and Cor.

Now if they could just get the emperor—

It wasn't just MTs falling from the sky now.

It must have taken half the imperial fleet to transport that thing across the sea. Or else—more disturbing yet—it had been in Lucis from the start. Whatever it was. Ignis had nothing to compare it to—a daemonic colossus, half as tall as the downtown skyscrapers, which seemed to have jaws upon jaws: a face with too many glowing red eyes and razor teeth as large as cars; two more faceless heads sat at its shoulders, gnashing teeth and spitting flame.

It was an abomination.

And it fell from the sky and crushed an entire warehouses with one step.