Page 1597

((The 17 pages of St. Patrick's Day + Triple Saturday -- Page 1 of 20))
Hector went to work while he could, boxing up every bit of isolated sludge that he could sense. It was everywhere, but so was his spatial awareness, and iron clapped together in rapid succession. He pulled them all toward him. More for the collection. So much more. It was almost complete now.

He hit the ground floor just after his arm did.

‘You alright?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ said Garovel, though he sounded a little shaken and followed it up with a sigh.

Only a few puddles of sludge were left after all that, and Hector could sense exactly where they were while he retrieved his shield and reaper. His arm was still regrowing, so Hector took his time but never stopped keeping track of his opponent, even in its weakened state.

Hector felt like Garovel could use some encouragement. Without a doubt, that had been one of their closest brushes with death, just now. ‘Ah... you were right about the worm absorbing the power of the Moon’s Wrath.’

‘Mm. Looks like you didn’t need that mirror, though.’

Hector eyed the iron-encased mirror as it orbited past his field of view. ‘It’ll make a good souvenir. Or maybe we can sell it. It looked expensive.’

‘Would you mind just finishing the fight, already? You’re making me nervous.’

His arm still had a bit more to go, but maybe he didn’t need it.

The last bit of sludge had managed to reaccumulate into a cow-sized lump, and it was hiding behind a pile of debris on the other side of the room.

That was too big to add to his collection, so he’d have to break it up.

With a wave of his hand, Hector dropped a cluster of deeply frozen javelins on it. They exploded and blew the worm to pieces.

He boxed the final remnants up and started gathering them. Little iron boxes, sliding across the uneven ground toward him, pushing themselves along a track in the same way that he had made his iron do many times before.

And he completed his worm collection.

He exhaled a ragged breath. Dozens upon dozens of iron boxes floated around him in synchronous orbit, crowding up the space around him with so much mass that it completely blocked his normal vision, at times.

And they were all clear to him, in his mind. There were seventy-two of them there, including the larger, hotel-like one that he’d made earlier. And a couple discs, as well, which he now decided to dematerialize.

‘Well done, my friend.’

Relieved as he felt, Hector was also a little confused now. Was the fight over? He was pretty sure he’d won. The worm couldn’t break free of its many tiny cages, even if it wasn’t technically dead.

‘Uh... so now what, Garovel?’

‘Good question. I figured Malast would’ve teleported us by now.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Do you think you can destroy the little chunks of the worm, one at a time?’

‘Uh... yeah, probably.’

‘Try that, then. It might take a while, but you’ll work your way up to destroying ninety percent of its body mass eventually, right?’

‘Alright.’ He set to work.