The sound of my hooves echoed through Manehattan Grand Central Station, and for a moment, I almost forgot it had once been a great metropolitan transit hub. In that moment, my hooves rang against the hallowed tiles of a grand cathedral. We stood in a place of worship, and the object of that faith was in the holy timetable. The church organs were the ancient steam whistles of trains, and the tithes taken were tickets that bestowed the right to board.
The illusion was broken a moment later when Gilda smacked me across the muzzle with her leonine tail. “Stop moving! Don’t you stupid ponies have some way to muffle your hoof steps? You’re going to attract attention.” She was hissing under her breath, but even that echoed in the massive empty concourse.
I shook my head. “N-never came… up as an issue b-before…”
“Stupid ponies… Alright, try and walk on the sides of your hooves. Every time your hoof lands flat like that it’s like a gun going off in here.” Gilda’s beak clicked in irritation as she began leading me again, although much slower, and she glared whenever I stepped wrong.
I couldn’t help but let my eyes be drawn to the upper floors and staircases all around us. So many places for a Hollow to hide, or worse… We were on the east coast of Equestria, so close to the black ocean. My own natural curiosity at least wanted to see it, but my face still stung from the last time I had asked Gilda if we could.
The only light to be found here was from the lights that still worked along the walls, and the central light of the information booth. Even the windows were pitch-black, as though the entire building were deep underwater. No sunlight from our distant horizon pierced through to greet us here, and the Equestrian flag that was hung from the rafters seemed like a parody of itself. Plunged into shadow, all that could be seen from the darkened fabric was Celestia’s white form, chasing the invisible shape of her sister into the Abyss, with Equestria almost lost to the darkness between them.
We were walking past the information desk when the wind picked up. The building had always had a faint breeze, as was to be expected from a building so large and so empty, and especially when the doors had been left open and the windows shattered as they had been. But this was new, and the wind rushed in like a wave. Molding papers fluttered across the room from the desk, and Gilda froze. Her head swiveled and her eyes swept the room.
In the center of the concourse, a red circle of magic sliced through the marble tiles, etching arcane patterns through the stone. In the center of the circle, a pool of abyss flooded inwards, and then stilled as though it were a mirror. Gilda’s eyes went wide, and she swore. “Scat! Get behind me, pony. I know the etiquette, I’ll handle the invader.”
“Et-ettiquette…?” I mumbled confusedly, stumbling behind GIlda. The information desk was circular, so I’d at least be protected there, and I took a flying leap to roll over the rotten wood. By the time I was standing again and watching, Gilda had drawn her bow and nocked an arrow, though she hadn’t drawn the string back to fire.
From before us, the red summoning circle writhed, and then a kneeling form emerged as though pushed upwards from within the pool. It was a stallion, incredibly well-muscled, but wearing incredibly heavy armor over those muscles. He seemed wreathed in red light from a source unseen, but I could just barely tell that the armor looked like gold, or perhaps brass. It was incredibly ornate, even more so than the armor of the Golden Guard, and in fact looked like it may have been too large for him. His head was hidden behind a mask, which depicted an older stallion with a shocked expression across his muzzle, as well as a curly mane and beard, all rendered in that same brass or gold.
Though he had a massive sword in one hoof and a strange, wooden shield that seemed to glow upon his back, his first actions weren’t hostile. Instead, he looked at the both of us, drew back upon his hinds, and held out his hooves to his sides as he stepped forward. He moved like a gladiator, playing up his confidence for a crowd that wasn’t there. Then his off hoof strayed to his flank, drawing a small wooden carving. He dropped it onto the floor as he dropped back to his four hooves, and an otherworldly voice echoed through the empty expanse of Manehattan Grand Central Station.
“Heeeellooo.”
Gilda exhaled slowly, then waved an open claw to greet him. She followed it up by pointing directly at the interloper, and shouted across the room, “One v one me, bro!”
The interloper bowed politely in response, then drew his sword up into a ready position as he approached slowly on three legs. Gilda approached him in turn, and they paused a few dozen leg-lengths before they met, in the middle of the marble concourse. Then they began to circle each other slowly around an unseen point between them.
For the first time, the invader spoke, in an impossibly-deep voice that seemed short, and clipped somehow. “Dex scrub.”
“Giant Sire cosplayer…” Gilda growled, as she drew her bow and nocked an arrow. Her eyes tracked the stallion for only a moment, and her claws twitched gently, around the arrow and towards her quiver. The Gryphon was like a coiled spring, as she waited for any sort of movement towards her. When it didn’t come, she clicked her beak shut again, and loosed the arrow she was holding.
The “Giant Sire” leapt straight at her as soon as the arrow leapt from the string. Gilda was fast, and had drawn and fired another arrow in less than a second, but this one the Giant Sire rolled under. I didn’t think a pony wearing armor so heavy could roll like that, with sparks scattering off of the marble floor, but he had closed the distance in only a moment. He was too close for arrows, and so Gilda leapt backwards with a flap of her wings, and let another arrow fly.
The Giant Sire came out of his roll swinging his massive word—a claymore, perhaps?—and when it struck the floor where Gilda had stood only a moment before, chaosfire exploded from the blade, scattering as though he’d struck a pool of flaming water. Gilda swore again, as the sword had only just missed her, and she rolled to the side as the Giant Sire pushed forward, thrusting at her with the great length of his blade.
She fired another arrow as she came out of her roll, and again the Giant Sire rolled towards her. This time, she tried to roll past him, but he grabbed the hilt of his claymore with his other hoof, and used all of his weight to swing the great blade in a sweeping arc all around himself. Gilda caught a nasty blow and sprawled across the floor, and only barely managed to roll back into a standing position before the sword slammed into the space where her head had been, only moments before.
“Rut this!” Gilda snarled, stowing her bow and drawing a wicked-looking hunting knife. Now, she was on the offensive, and ducked under another two-hooved swing to get in close and slash at her opponent. Yet as fast as she was with her knife, the Giant Sire’s armor held strong, and he actually laughed at her as she tried to stab him. That impossibly-deep voice echoed through the great space once more, as he asked, “Wt ring u got bithc?”
He released his great claymore with one hoof, and I only saw a glimmer of Pyromancy before it was too late. Black fire, like combustion turned dark, enveloped GIlda. She screeched, and leapt away, rolling and swatting at her fur to try and extinguish the flames. Even then, he was relentless. He rolled after her, and swung the burning claymore one-hoofed. It made a grisly smacking sound as it dug deep into Gilda’s chest.
She was still recovering from that first blow when he spun on his hind, using his own weight to rip the claymore out of her side. Then he finished his pirouette by slamming the blade into her gut, and GIlda went down in a tangle of blood, limbs, and fire.
As Gilda dissolved into burning light, he tore out his sword once more, and turned towards me. I realized I was suddenly alone, left to handle this bizarre attacker by myself, and he had dispatched Gilda so easily that he was bragging about it!
“Gilda of the East? More like Gilda the deceased lol”
My cavalry sword was still screwed into place at the side of my armor, and I hoped to attack him before he had time to rest after defeating Gilda. But I still stumbled as I leapt over the desk, and the Giant Sire made that same gladiatorial motion as he watched me approach. “Wat r u casul?”
He didn’t even move as I charged towards him, and I slammed into his side, my blade piercing his armor with another shower of sparks. But it was more accurate to say that I bounced off of him; he didn’t waver at my strike, and I was wheezing from the impact, with stars in my eyes. He only said a single word as I staggered back, with his blood dripping from my sword. “POISE.”
Then he swung his great, flaming claymore, and my belly slapped against the floor as I ducked under it. I tried to roll away like Gilda had, but he simply strode closer as I was still standing up, and his foreleg slammed into the ankle of my hind, forcing me back down to the floor. I couldn’t move as I recovered from that blow, and he took his time swinging his sword one-hooved into my back, cleaving through my shoulder. My ichor sprayed across the marble, and I was sent sprawling again.
I was sure I was done for, but he held back, allowing me to stagger to my hooves. Somehow, my foreleg wasn’t broken from that strike, but I could barely limp forwards. Still, I did have one trick I could maybe use. I delved into the black, bottomless bag that held all of the strange items I had accrued through my journey, and retrieved one of the sloshing clay jars that Trixie had filled with prismapetrol.
As the Giant Sire drew close, I slung the clay jar overhoof, and it sailed true. The volatile fuel drained from the fallen weather factory exploded on contact, instantly dousing my opponent in oil that burned with all the colors of the rainbow, and that finally made him stagger.
“Firebomb r 4 n00bs” he groaned, shaking the flaming fuel off of his armor, and striding forward once more. Somehow, he seemed unharmed by the prismatic fire, startled if anything. But it should’ve been burning his fur all the way under his armor! How could he just shake it off?
I stumbled back, but he simply rolled again, splashing burning oil everywhere, and he did that trick again. As he recovered from his roll, his burning claymore was already swinging down in a deadly arc towards me. I had no hope of dodging.
The blade struck my other shoulder and cleaved downwards, forcing me to the marble floor. Both my legs refused to move, and I could only barely struggle to stand before surrendering to the creeping darkness of undeath. As my sense faded, the last thing I heard was his impossibly-deep voice once more.
“GG EZ.”