Sometimes, the things you expect to pair the least are surprisingly complementary. Nobody remembered the first chef who added salt to sugar as a mistake, the combination thereafter only seemed natural. Ever since Zaofan happened upon Held, on the Capsule of the World, they had a tendency to just play things by ear. Some way, some how, things just had a way of working out for them this way.
The path of Held's Shingan became apparent, and the chef had the utmost confidence in him. It was as if they had practiced this maneuver a thousand times; The spear flew true, its gleaming surface like a prism, and as it neared the beam the glow seemed to radiate from the
Optic Blast, as if the impact would cut a white light into a spectrum of colours.
But through it all, Zaofan only saw red. And Despite all appearances, this was not light. Sculpt though ki, this was a magnification of force, effort intensified by will and put forward by intention
And when the
Golden Spear intersected with the path of the
Ruby Ricochet, with a flash it altered its trajectory, picking up greater speed as it ricocheted off of the ricochet. As it struck, something in the technique, from the arc to the spin bent the path of the red beam for continual, successive collisions erupting in repeated impacts over the hangar, until they at last found mutual impact point: dead centre upon one of the Golems.
The effect was concussive force, magnified several times over.
Over and over the Spear and the Blast seemed to find each other, again and again as they repeatedly smashed into one of the ten golems before rocketing to another of each assembly. Every time one shot threatened to clip the walls, it was shot back into the fray; if one ever neared the Coldlight, its counterpart would quickly intercept and send it back to the true targets.
Through it all, Zaofan never budged an inch.