The intruder recoiled then, the vision of the sword first trembling then shattering as a sense of recognition filled him, a single word shouted into his mind, made furious with enraged repugnance: DEMON!
The world returned in a rush, leaving him on all fours, gasping for air as his heart hammered against his chest like a trapped animal desperate for release. For a second, the pounding of his pulse was all he could hear, but then came a squeal of grinding metal followed by the familiar whoosh of a blade. Many years of battle-born instinct saved him, forcing his limbs to propel him into a roll. Sparks showered him as the tulwar’s tip scraped along the tiles of the bridge’s surface. He saw Player dodge the upsweep of the blade, the edge catching a glancing blow on his mask and sending him into an overhead tumble. He landed on the marble parapet with the kind of force Pilgrim knew would lacerate organs with the shards of shattered ribs.
Hearing the tulwar cut the air once again he tore his gaze from the Atherian’s immobile form and darted forward, drawing the sword as he did so. He was obliged to leap in order to ensure the blades met, the collision of unnaturally forged steel producing a blinding flash of released energy and sending Pilgrim careening across the bridge. He collided with a marble buttress only a few feet from Player’s body, still lying across the balustrade, his masked head hanging in the air. Pilgrim’s surprise at seeing no blood seeping from the mask was short lived, as the sound of metal feet on stone drew his gaze back to the plinth to see the Crucible leaping down. Its body squealed with every movement as it rose from its crouch and turned to confront him. The helm’s eye-slits were no longer empty, filled instead with a bright yellow glow, as full of hate as any dritch-wight’s.
I told you it wouldn’t like me, the voice reminded him as the iron warrior started forward. Pilgrim drew in a ragged breath and tried to force himself to his feet, only managing to rise to one knee by the time the Crucible’s shadow fell upon him. It loomed above, tulwar raised, then paused as one of Seeker’s arrows rebounded from the back of its helm. A faint hiss issued from the depths of the warrior as it turned, either an expression of irritation or some result of the workings of its divinely crafted body.