"Doesn't that make the whole world go blind?!" Ensone hollered as he leapt after del Pilar, the Lieutenant's left hand now wreathed in a flowing script of emerald flames. Dodging another errant blast from the eye's bloody pupil, the Infernal began to chant as he worked to integrate himself into the Solar's precipitous dance;<br/><br/>"Once there was a maiden...<br/>...who struck an iron wall until it shattered her hand.<br/>She did not stop, though cracks spread throughout her bones.<br/>She did not stop, though blood sprayed her eyes.<br/>She did not stop until she shattered the wall.<br/>“Survival is fury,” she said."<br/><br/>Solars may have been the epitome of mortal excellence, but Infernals were powered by reality-warping madness. Del Pilar may have started the fray, but Esone's wind-born stride brought him into striking range well ahead of his commander. Rolling beneath the baleful orb, the Lieutenant planted his feet firmly on the bulkhead behind his target and shoved off, whipping around and smashing his script-scribed fist into the orb like a hammer. The force of the blow formed a concave dent nearly triple the size of his fist in the unblemished surface of the Soulsteel carapace, and sent it flying towards the oncoming Solar. Esone was left corkscrewing in mid-air for a few moments, cursing the presence of gravity as he began to drop. At the last moment he remembered to call bloody-hued winds to swirl around him in an eerily silent vortex, bearing him aloft in an earth-skimming gale tread.<br/>"Fist of the Old Ones! Batter up commander!"