more longinous

Then, it was just a matter of our attacks converging on a target—and we both had really good aim. And while he was pinned down, we converged ourselves, appearing right in front of him. This time, my other self took the lead, crafting a Longinus in our hands. The spear glowed brightly with the power we infused within it—but because of that same power, it wasn’t something we could waste. Unlike Gungnir, Longinus couldn’t follow a target and while it could pierce any defense, it could still miss; when we could afford to use it, me had to make sure it counted. Thanks to the Mathematician’s Answer, I was reasonably confident I’d never miss a stationary target, but Gilgamesh was far from stationary and aiming got more complicated against a foe who could move fast enough to dodge an attack after it was fired.

Even so, I saw a shot and I took it. We stepped forward once and threw the spear towards the center of his body—tempting as it was to aim for the head, against a target as fast as this, it was better to aim for the center of mass and trust that putting a gaping hole in someone’s body was bad for their health no matter where it was.

The moment it left our hands, space began to waver around Longinus, twisting violently around the blade as it flew without seeming regard for air resistance or much of anything else. The ground seemed to curve slightly as the blade flew over it, as if pushed down by its passage, and in the midst of the smoke I saw Gilgamesh’s eyes snap up to the spear in recognition. He tried to react, to get out of the way, but there was a reason we’d struck from this close—near enough to minimize his chances of dodging, far enough to avoid attempts at disrupting our attack—and his attempted dodge did nothing but cause the spear to pierce through the left side of his chest instead of where a human’s heart would have been. His hand came up to close over yet another hole in his chest, but his eyes were intent and fierce.