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In that moment, Alja's thoughts mirrored Graves' words quite well: [i][color=d1fffc]What the FUCK!?[/color][/i]

There was no pain in Pariah; not really. There couldn't be. It was a goddamn game, after all. But c'mon, Graves wasn't that good of an actor. That was real genuine panic in the man, and he was so loath to show weakness, she could only assume that it was real. 

Pressing her lips tightly together--business time now--she passed Graves, who'd fallen back into her, off to the rest to take care of. Kazuki could probably heal him up, hopefully without any more pain. She pulled the frost of her Tundra Glass off of Graves, back to herself to replenish her magical reserves. Then, being careful not to stray off the tile she was on, she pulled Glacier Chain off of her back, giving it a few experimental swings. She looked back and forth, making sure that there was sufficient room behind her. She let herself smile a little bit, some of the tension slacking out of her; she'd pulled this trick on pressure plates a thousand times, it felt like.

Then she heaved the enormous flail over her head and [i]slammed[/i] it into the floor with a wordless bellow.

Her conjuration shot out through the weapon, and with a sound like a pane of glass breaking, a river of ice flowed out over the floor like quicksilver, sinking into the cracks between the tiles and freezing fast, covering it in a thin layer of ice. It passed Seele's barrier, reaching the door at the end in a little less then five seconds before halting, creating a narrow path no more than two feet wide. She tentatively stepped forward, putting her weight on the tile. There was a faint crackling sound and she tensed to throw herself back, but then it settled and held. She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, and then stood. Oddly [i]shakily[/i], actually. She was used to the concept of fatigue in Pariah--magic needed a limit, after all, and that was a pretty good-sized conjuration spell, one that she only had enough fuel for one or two of in her at any given time--but she'd never felt like this, even after a whole dungeon. She grimaced. Pain. Heat. Fatigue. Smell. This was [i]not[/i] looking good.

Then--because [i]of course[/i]--just as she stepped forwards, something in the floor shifted, and there was a sound of grinding gears. And in front of her eyes--just past her feet--a veritable forest of spikes lanced up through the floor, punching holes through her ice like it wasn't there and shattering it to shards of mist and magic. Every spike. Everywhere.

[i][color=d1fffc]Jesus Fixer Christ.[/color][/i]

She backed up out of instinct, eyes wide and mouth suddenly dry.

"[color=d1fffc]Well. That...was unexpected.[/color]"