The Void Rift Crisis

by Visiden Visidane

The Centimanus - Aqua Malleus

Yes, that is correct, I was one of the alicorns that engaged the centimanus during the Battle for Elys.

This is an awful memory you are asking me to relive, colt. Can't you ask me something cheery such as the celebration after the crisis? I met my dear Aura Magnum there after all. No? You would rather hear about the hundred-handed abomination that sliced through several of my comrades in a welter of blood? Fourth's hammer, colt, you have a fascination for the macabre it seems.

The Herd has had to deal with the centimanii so directly only a few times before in our long history. Though they are content to wander Vestibulum, they are a capricious lot, prone to odd moments of whimsy. At least, the three unique individuals that the Herd has recorded since the First Cycle were. Their antics would not be so bad if they were not so unbelievably strong and brutal. As a sentinel, my only encounters with them prior to the Void Rift Crisis was when one of them menaced my patrol from a distance. We challenged it to a brief clash just to drive it away, and it obliged after a few lazy attempts at attacking.

Fighting one seriously, however...a true ordeal.

The centimanus that appeared in Elys was not recognized by any of us, though how one tells apart one fifty-headed, hundred-handed monstrosity from another escapes me. Someone can, apparently. Perhaps it's one of our diviners, or just an alicorn with odd ideas about how to spend his time. What it did mean is that this was considered a newly-sighted individual, bringing the total population of the centimanii to four.

I think you've been given some details as to what one looks like. The name we gave to them as a race isn't exactly subtle.

You'd think we'd have the advantage when faced with one. A centimanus is capable of only a few spells, which it largely ignores in favor of physical combat. Tall as one is, it does not fly. Against a flying, spell-casting alicorn, it should pose little threat, correct?

That is when one quickly discovers the impossibility of affecting it with magic, and its fondness for hurling one hundred boulders at a time with incredible power and accuracy. It is the very manifestation of pure brutishness; a heavily-armored, muscle-bound giant that forces the fight to play to its strengths.

I was never the fastest flyer in my patrol, and that turned into my fortune during that battle. We had decided that, if magic wasn't going to bring down this behemoth, we were going to dive in for weapon strikes. It takes an incredible amount of arrogance, I know, for an alicorn to think that he was what it takes to engage a centimanus in melee combat, but we were not left with much of a choice. That poor fool, Nivis Casus, overtook me as usual, far too eager to be the first to slay one of the Agamanthion's main defenders. He lost his wings after the centimanus' first five slashes. As he dropped within its range, he lost his head, then his forelegs. He was gone before he could hit the ground. I am not sure if it was because he had completely diminished, or the centimanus had sliced him into pieces too small to be seen.

You'd be shocked at how quick those gigantic tree-trunk arms could move, how flexible, and how accurate. It pirouetted among us with all the grace of a trained dancer. I was falling back before I could finish my first attack. I don't even remember how it gashed me three times. I could only be thankful that it hadn't taken a wing off. Or my head for that matter. Its body stretched out, flexed, and curled as if it was a giant tentacle with sword-wielding monsters attached to it. Its constant stance-shifting had caused more that one alicorn to be cut down after failing to judge distance. And it was strong. Incredibly strong. Its swings strained magical shields to their limits with a sheer strength and volume of hits.

And the noise. It wasn't a quiet battle around us, of course, but the centimanus was especially loud. The constant whistling of its hundred blades cutting through the air was enough to give me a headache. Its fifty heads were happy to shout battle cries and taunts in its language, if they weren't simply bellowing their rage.

How did we slay it?

First, slaying it wasn't our imperative goal. We engaged it so His Majesty's group could break through this creature without it harassing them. We were there to keep it busy, hoping that the destruction of the Agamanthion would cause it to disappear. I didn't know how to slay a centimanus. I'm still not sure how in present.

It started with a successful stab from Aurus Majorus. He drew blood when he slipped his spear past the impeccable parries from over a dozen blades, and between the plates of the creature's armor. I can still remember him about to let out a triumphant cry, but his head was gone in the resulting counterattack.

Still, the hit inspired the rest of us. We had allowed it to stay in its rhythm by letting it keep striking. When we took the initiative, we began pushing it back. Oh, it cost lives to keep whittling it down, but we had the bodies to throw. I got my own hits as well. I was able to cave in the skull of one of its heads. I recall that moment because I nearly lost a foreleg from that, and that, for an odd reason, I started wondering if I had damaged one of its many brains or if these heads were mostly empty save for one.

And, ultimately, we did not even slay it. Once it started to bleed profusely, it opted to simply quit and leave. Perhaps the Sixth didn't negotiate enough for undying loyalty. I, for one, hope that it doesn't have a particularly sharp memory, or that it's the forgiving sort. I still patrol Vestibulum, and I don't like the thought of it lying in wait amidst the gray, waiting for the handsome alicorn who caved one of its heads in.

Does that satisfy your curiosity? Good, want to hear how I met Aura Magnum now? Speaking of her might wash my mind of that horrible battle.