The collision doesn't generate an explosion.
It generates persistence.
Medusa doesn't retreat after the impact. She remains glued to the true Aegis like a shadow that refuses to let go, her serpentine body writhing in increasingly unorthodox, increasingly aggressive movements. The petrified Yamato descends, rises, spins, no longer seeking clear openings, but forcing the world to create one.
She attacks from the wrong angles.
Wrong according to any manual.
Wrong according to any classic divine strategy.
Athena defends.
Always.
The Aegis moves before the blow arrives, intercepting blades, tails, frontal charges, and twisting attacks with the same cold efficiency. Each impact is absorbed, redirected, neutralized. The field trembles, but the goddess remains firm, her feet anchored in reality as if it were just another chessboard.
But her eyes…
move.
They analyze.
Medusa senses it.
And something inside her breaks even further.
