Strange's reaction times are better. Whatever Ignatius did to him, that training doesn't seem to have been just for show. However, Lambert rapidly has other problems, between Ignatius's sudden burst of flame rolling out, the magician in front of him turning into smoke and flowing towards him, and having only a split second to weave a narrative for himself without the aid of witcher magic.
He brings up the magical bracer Peridot wrought for him and it absorbs the flame ... for a time. It quickly superheats against his skin, making his teeth grit in pain, and unfortunately it's no shield for the rest of him -- it keeps it off enough to keep it from killing him outright, but he can feel his clothes essentially fusing to his skin as they're turned to ash.
Fuck it. He's bent reality before, just by willing it, he'll fucking bend reality again, trying to call on the Athenaeum's power. What is the Athenaeum's power? In the heat of the moment, Lambert can't think of a specific story -- only the memory of poring over books, books, and more books, endless lines of text that blur into each other.
"Shield!" Lambert shouts, visualizing a wall -- a dome of text around him -- to block the rest of the flames, and block the smoke seeking to choke him too. For a moment, it seems to work, as his form's briefly obscured by a uite literally formed of the word 'shield,' repeated over and over again -- but the narrative's too thin to hold it together and it shatters, making him yelp as he's drenched in flame again.
Luckily, he doesn't have to bear with it for long, as Zangetsu's wall of water floods the Coliseum, letting him be a little less on fire as he tries to catch his breath and figure out what the hell else is happening.
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He brings up the magical bracer Peridot wrought for him and it absorbs the flame ... for a time. It quickly superheats against his skin, making his teeth grit in pain, and unfortunately it's no shield for the rest of him -- it keeps it off enough to keep it from killing him outright, but he can feel his clothes essentially fusing to his skin as they're turned to ash.
Fuck it. He's bent reality before, just by willing it, he'll fucking bend reality again, trying to call on the Athenaeum's power. What is the Athenaeum's power? In the heat of the moment, Lambert can't think of a specific story -- only the memory of poring over books, books, and more books, endless lines of text that blur into each other.
"Shield!" Lambert shouts, visualizing a wall -- a dome of text around him -- to block the rest of the flames, and block the smoke seeking to choke him too. For a moment, it seems to work, as his form's briefly obscured by a uite literally formed of the word 'shield,' repeated over and over again -- but the narrative's too thin to hold it together and it shatters, making him yelp as he's drenched in flame again.
Luckily, he doesn't have to bear with it for long, as Zangetsu's wall of water floods the Coliseum, letting him be a little less on fire as he tries to catch his breath and figure out what the hell else is happening.