Behind the Mirror: We cheese the prompt because the fight continues.

Poorly written fight scenes; don't worry Frye will be fine.

All the good things belong to Monolithsoft.

Bozé slipped into overdrive, turning his sniper shots into a spear of bullets. He became a spear himself, driving his javelin home, before pulling back to send another flight of shots. Phog's initial peppering of the monster hadn't shown any weak points, but at least they had demonstrated that, as uncanny as this beast was, it still had the basic morphology of a xiphias. Even if they didn't light up, it still had the patches that would normally glow a cheery pink, right before exploding in your face. Bozé aimed for where those patches had to be, and was relieved to see them dimple, then break. Something was going as expected in this battle.

Frye was beyond planning and formations. Wolf left him to his single-minded attack and gave Phog one more shake, to remove the rest of the sand.

"Another boost?" the young man said, hopefully.

Wolf growled a negative. "They've got the topside covered. You go underwater, I'll try to get you a debuff. Your blades are physical, right?"

"Rocks respond best to hammers," Phog said, a comment almost worthy of Bozé, except he meant it literally. That was his thing: rocks. And if he used his swords, elegantly forged for Six Stars Armory, as rock hammers sometimes, it was best that the testy Wrothian blacksmith never got word of that.

"Right. Count of 3."

Wolf had the debuff ready before three, knowing it had to land before Phog started his attack, but it was close. Nerdy, dreamy, peaceful Phog could move as fast as his brother. There had to be a wide streak of crazy in both of them. Wolf shouted his move, "Magnum Edge!", over the surf churned up by the monster and the inarticulate screams of Frye. Somebody had to follow proper battle procedure. He couldn't hear Phog's reply, only a sort of "(sigh) (hum)", but he was going to hope the kid had said "Sliding Slinger".

Whether he had said it or not, Phog used the signature ground move so beloved by dual sword wielders. It could carry you across a battlefield, it could take you out of harm's way, it could help split an enemy from underneath. (It could shoot you off the edge of a cliff if you weren't careful, not an issue here.) It was a ground move, and Wolf wasn't confident it would work in sand and water. He watched, heart in his mouth, ready to wade in to protect the boy.

Phog skimmed across the water like a perfectly flicked stone, skipping across the mirror surface of a pond on a summer's day. He seemed to gain speed as he went, then sliced under the surface of the water just as he reached the super tyrant. Wolf couldn't see where he popped up, but the beast hunched and curled downward. Their combined efforts had done something.

Frye's yodels had turned joyous, indicating that Phog's exit point had been close to his brother. The overdrive energy shifted in quality, becoming a dual pillar, a mix of light and dark blue. Wolf left them to it, doing his pedestrian best in the form of as many rounds per second that his assault rifle could eject. He couldn't target like his good friend Bozé back there, but the monster was the size of a barn. Targeting wasn't the problem today.

The monster was heaving, swelling and shrinking, but the combined attacks seemed to prevent it from unleashing the massive blast that had almost destroyed them earlier. It swung its horn up, fighting a challenger remembered but no longer existing. The team didn't let up. If anything, they pressed harder.

"Burst Grenade!"
"(mmm) (mmm)"
"Trident Buster!"
"Suck on th... arghhhhhh!"

Frye had let his guard down. He was too close to the beast, and when it curled inward like an eldritch horror of a monstrous shrimp, the horn mashed him into the sand. He couldn't have been hit harder if he'd been smacked with a telephone pole. Wolf was on the other side of the creature, unable to protect the nominal leader of the team. Bozé was on the far end of his loop as sniper. Frye was stunned out of overdrive. A single flickering pillar of baby blue overdrive remained.

The shout was light, clear, and precise. "Sky High." Phog was tossed into the air, flailing like a rag doll. It was painful to watch, except every shot from his dual guns landed squarely into the head of the monstrosity. He landed perfectly on his feet, 10/10, no notes, much like the cats he loathed.

No one could explain why the team paused then. It was if they knew. The monster stretched its full length, no curling, no swinging, its head resting on the sand like a pillow. The sides heaved, and with each breath the dark aura diminished. Finally it was still. In the full morning light, its skin had the luminous shine of a black pearl. The team held their breath for a heartbeat, then raced to help the injured.

a/n: Spot the prompt! Wolf gets arts from Nagi, Frye, and Gwin. Frye's art is non-canonical. Sliding Slinger is super fun but so problematic, or maybe it's just my Cross launching himself into a gulch.

Next up: A little more. Wizards and Witches.