Camelot tanks Leviathan

I threw out my hands as though to ward off the wave. Five voices cried out, a chorus of resolve.

Imitation Fortress of a Distant Utopia
“LORD CAMELOT!”

Lines of blue light traced themselves in the air across the bay, etching an eerie, phantasmal replica of the Round Table. It glowed brightly like a distant star, so brightly that I could see it even through the gloom, and to either side, stretching out from one end of the city to the other, the waters of the bay surged and frothed as thick, sturdy castle walls of the same ghostly blue arose from under the surface. Up and up and up they went, rising higher and higher and higher, until they towered over even Leviathan’s wave, and still, they kept rising.

Shouts and exclamations of awe came from behind us as the other fighters watched. The walls continued to stretch towards the sky, reaching up towards the clouds, and they kept going and going — twenty feet, thirty feet, forty, fifty, sixty, even eighty. Beyond even my expectations, they just kept growing, dwarfing everyone and everything, and it looked for a moment like they might actually go until they reached the clouds.

They stopped at last at what must have been two-hundred feet tall, easily taller than all but maybe two buildings in the whole city. With the Medhall building half-collapsed from Bakuda’s bombing spree, they might even be the tallest.

Leviathan and his wave slammed into them with the crackling tinkle of plexiglass, and I felt the impact as a phantom blow against my ribs — not as pain, but as a sort of jerk, like the lurch of your stomach when your car suddenly jolts into motion. A surprised grunt from Armsmaster and the short burst of air that left Alexandria’s lungs told me that they had felt it, too.

I gritted my teeth and quelled any uncertainty inside me.

Of course. This wasn’t the sort of barrier where the wielder’s life was wagered by its strength. This imitation Lord Camelot was not tied to our health, such that we would be injured as the barrier was damaged. We were in no such danger, even if it were to shatter completely.

However, it drew strength from the strength of our hearts. Each blow it took, then, was not a blow to our bodies, but an attack against our wills. To erode the barrier was to erode our resolve.

“Stay strong!” I called. The words felt more like Nimue’s than my own. “Don’t let yourself waver, even for a moment!”

Our imitation Lord Camelot held. Leviathan came up against it and was rebuffed, and his wave splashed the surface impotently, like a child playing in the pool.