Haelvia would have been lying to herself, if she said she wasn't tempted.
Due to the special status Lieutenant Teneca accorded her, she was treated with respect by everyone in the Highblade fortress. So of their Officers and senior enlisted leaders even greeted her casually to engage in small talk.
Conversely, Haelvia had been in Guild tal Wolf for a little over a year. To sum up her ti with them in a single word... it was... lonely.
She had no friends. Her peers barely gave her an uncia of their free ti. As for respect? She'd almost forgotten what having that was like.
If Haelvia surrendered to cowardice, the Centurion couldn't bla her.
Loki, after all, was the better pilot.
He gave in to his demons without anyone's say.
Coraline would probably have begged her not to go-- there was really no logical sense to it.
...Lieutenant Teneca would probably have been pleased... satisfied that her sweet temptations bore fruit.
In fact... if she was watching from the walls, she was probably the most surprised.
Haelvia and Gaheris marched slowly towards the enemy line. She carried her tower shield. She carried a sturdy tal spear.
Regardless of the conflict in her heart... and regardless of the options she had available to her... she made her choice.
She chose loyalty.
She would serve dutifully... until the end.
Facing the enemy... it was in her contract. Yet... Haelvia definitely felt like she was going above and beyond what was reasonably expected of her.
She was going to fight an enemy that could defeat Loki and Lancelot in a single magical barrage. Even if she perford at her best... maybe beyond her limits, she was still around the late expert's level.
Maybe she was out there... because it was her pride in being a Tyrion.
Maybe it was because she was still upset that that arrogant piece of garbage took the easy way out.
Maybe... this was her way of showing loyalty to everyone that *did* give a shite about her in her life.
Guild tal Wolf-- no... Haelvia of Leopardon would not lie down and willingly take a loss.
It... sounded better than it felt.
Even if the odds were against her... it wasn't impossible to defeat her opponent... and demand that her company be spared.
Granted, she wasn't sure if that would even work. Even if she did sohow snatch an impossible victory, the Ebon Mask tribe still had their numbers... and even a single one of their Warriors could match a full tal Wolf tent-group.
Haelvia shook her head and took a deep breath.
In the end, she didn't feel like she was brave... or loyal... or anything Tyrion propaganda told her she'd feel.
She felt she was still just a fish, foolishly trying to rate.
⟬ The enemy is attacking. ⟭
Haelvia widened her eyes at Gaheris' warning.
The Bear Armor had fired its cannons.
...
She was fast.
The Tyrion-purple Divine Armor lifted its shield to block the initial barrage... which seed like a rather foolish move.
That pilot had really placed too much faith in their defenses...
"Oho?" The watching man leaned forward.
The actual result... was sothing he did not expect.
The Tyrion's shield was ruined, riddled with holes and no better than scrap tal. However, he could see a glow suffused within. As broken as it was, silver tendrils of mana kept the shield sowhat functional.
"So it's a full mana-construct..." The man scoffed, "Tss. An acceptable move, then."
It was sothing like that crusty old dwarf, Harkus Mors, would make. With how resilient the Divine Armor was, the man wondered if it might *actually* have been one of his.
The red and white Bear Armor roared in fury-- it was a neat attention to detail, for the sound to be so realistic. That thing was certainly not of Tyrion-make, barreling forward on all four limbs with speed impossible for a bipedal Armor to reach.
The Purple Armor charged forward to et with it, wielding its heavy tal spear in both hands.
Did that pilot seek a double suicide? Or was it a calculated response?
The watching man would have elected to do similar... seeking to fight at close range, rather than mid-or-far. Granted, he had the confidence to do so.
The two armors collided, one desperately swinging a spear, the other noisily clawing away like a rabid animal.
The purple one kept its speed... and did show, perhaps, the barest hint of technical skill. However, their movents betrayed their true thoughts.
Panic.
Desperation.
If the two fighters were human-sized, it would be even more of a joke: a man with a sharpened stick fighting against a veritable force of nature.
And so the raging bear perford as expected. In only their second exchange, the Purple Armor was knocked backward, sprawled out onto the ground.
It was inevitable. The pilot of the purple Divine Armor didn't have the requisite skill to fight against a wild animal.
Then... the Purple Armor... perford a combat roll. They sorsaulted backward and got to their feet, spear still in hand.
It was a maneuver impossible for a novice to execute. A pilot's will needed to be interpreted by the Divine Armor's interface before it moved, resulting in too much delay to complete complex movents.
The watching man was aware that the Arcanite Princess was developing a guided system for her Divine Armors... one that tried to guess its pilot's actions, filling in the blanks of uncommunicated inputs with rational ones.
That was likely the reason behind the savage, yet smooth motions displayed by the Bear Armor. Its pilot's anger, its lust for destruction was all too clear, and only served to empower its speed and strength.
"But how?" The man furrowed his brows... "Who is... that pilot?"
The Purple Armor charged forward again, sidestepping at the last, precarious mont to swing its spear at the Bear Armor's chest.
With the screech of tal twisting and exploding, the Bear Armor bit into the spear haft with its teeth, the bottom half of it shattering in a violent burst of mana dust.
The Purple Armor grabbed onto the bear... smashing a series of fists and knees the larger Divine Armor's form.
It was useless.
The blows were too weak... the pilot's mana reserves too low.
With a heavy paw swipe, the bear smashed the Tyrion's shoulder down, dropping them to the ground, a circle of silt and sand bursting outward.
"A pity," The man shook his head.
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