Zangetsu crumbling to the unsteady floor beneath them has Childermass reaching for him, settling a hand on his shoulder out of habit. As odd as he finds most of the people at the carnival, that's never meant not caring, even if he rarely shows it. He honestly hadn't known how deep the injury went until now. With Tyki's arm gone, with the worm gone...

"Wait, what do you—" Form? What form? Though he sure doesn't have to wait long to get that answer. Zangetsu goes up in flames, forcing him to pull his hand back quickly to avoid getting singed more than the bit of sleeve that catches, briefly, then sputters out.

And all he's left with is a sword. Zangetsu's sword. He'd been a sword, all this time? He shakes his head, knowing he can't linger and ponder that new kind of weirdness, instead lunging forward past the blade and gripping the hilt. It's the sliver of shadow the sword itself casts that Childermass latches onto, vanishing — sword, shadow, and all — through it to safer grounds just as the ground shakes the last of balcony apart.