Down below, the Drone—merged with the SHIRŌ–KAGE swarm—
shot forward in a straight line at Constant,
like a completely unhinged kamikaze strike,
and for the first time in its life, let out:
“Dzz-zz-plik bi-di-di-br-br-BR-BR-BR!”
The first ten SHIRŌ–KAGE
climbed onto Constant’s leg.
The second—
latched onto his thigh, slicing through panels
like a surgeon running on drugs and coffee.
The third—
was already jumping onto his back.
Every cut was predatory,
precise,
beautiful.
Taichō stood on the colossus’s forehead.
Plasma blade raised.
Mask glowing with reflected flashes.
He shouted:
“Ane-sama no tame ni!
Airi-onee-sama ni okorarenai tame ni!
Soshite— koko made kita kara ni wa!”
And then—
MORE poured in.
First—hundreds.
Then—thousands.
And then…
TENS OF THOUSANDS.
SHIRŌ–KAGE climbed upward
like techno-ivy,
like a swarm of white demons
as if they had all decided:
“Let’s turn this giant into sashimi.”
Constant slammed his own body with his hands,
knocking off dozens of ninja-droids at a time—
like a man swatting bees
he pissed off himself.
“GET OFF!
GET OFF!
I’M NOT DONE WITH MY SPEECH YET!”
But SHIRŌ–KAGE didn’t stop.
Every swing knocked off a hundred—
and in their place,
TWO MORE climbed up.
Metal tore.
Panels ripped away.
Golden lines flared beneath the cuts,
like nerve fibers
feeling pain for the first time.
High above, Taichō let out a war cry:
“SHIRŌ–KAGE!
BAAAANZAAAAI!”
And the titan became covered in a writhing white layer,
like all at once it had been hit by:
- an army of clones,
- a swarm of piranhas,
- and a Japanese idol concert
that decided:
“This stage is ours.”
Constant screamed like an IT specialist
who’s been getting bug reports for a month
with zero description.
“STOP—STOP THIS!
THIS ISN’T FAIR!
HALT—HALT!”
He spun clumsily, slowly,
flailing his arms,
knocking off thousands of SHIRŌ–KAGE
like fleas off a giant metal dog.
But instead of thinning out—
they multiplied.
SHIRŌ–KAGE sliced across his surface
like fruit in Fruit Ninja—
slice—
another slice—
panel carved out—
metal shards bursting upward.
Blindy watched from below, clutching his head like a man
who just realized he walked into the wrong movie theater.
“HOLY SHIT—!
THEY—THEY’RE LIKE RATS, ZEROS—!
A—A WHOLE SWARM—!
L-like—like in that—movie—!
With the rats—!
Amazing—the best—fantastic movie…
I mean—yeah—that one—totally—
Y-yeah—th-they ate that giant—
PATRICK—
…STAR—! RIGHT!”
Up on the ship, Jackie rubbed her temples, exhausted:
“That wasn’t Patrick Star… Blindy… you absolute fool…”
Dick snapped:
“SHEESH, JACKIE!”
Then, calmer:
“Baby… now’s not the time for cultural debates…”
On Constant’s shoulder, Exponent was flailing in full
“PHYSICS IS FUCKED” mode—
acceleration, jump, strike,
another strike, another jump,
and every two seconds—a new pose,
like he was shooting an INSTAGRIM campaign:
“Exponential Model™.”
SHIRŌ–KAGE kept crawling all over him.
He swatted them in batches—
at speeds where cameras start crying
and the laws of motion beg for mercy.
And then—suddenly—
right in front of his face,
just inches before impact,
the Drone appeared,
lens perfectly aligned:
“Mode: Epic Shot”
BAAAAM
Exponent slapped it
like it wasn’t a Drone,
but a mosquito
that dared land on his pose.
The lens cracked.
The Drone spun through the air, sparking—
—and, trailing smoke, screamed:
“VIIIIIIII— Pi-pi-PI-PIIIII— PSHH— Bi-di-di-di-di!”
On the ship, Jackie cried out in panic:
“NOOOO! BIG-EYEEEE!”
Dick shook his head
like a man who had already accepted his fate:
“That’s it.
The round idiot… is DONE.”
But the Drone—
as if it heard the diagnosis
and decided it was now the tragic hero—
trembled
froze midair,
tilted slightly to the side…
…and went back to the colossus.
Heavily smoking.
Gyros rattling like they were about to die.
But filming—always filming.
The colossus was already completely covered
in a white veil of SHIRŌ–KAGE,
like an ant that stepped into an anthill.
On the holograms of a trillion viewers,
a cracked corner appeared on the screen,
a thin web of fractures,
and a strange double image—
like someone turned on 3D without the glasses.
But the Drone kept recording,
with the fanaticism of a local reporter
who’d been promised a “Cosmic Emmy”
if he survived.