[center][h1][b]Iraleth Kyrios[/b][/h1][/center]

In her exhausted, heavily wounded state, Iraleth barely noticed the bullet fly past her. The result of its impact, however, was far more evident. Darkness fully engulfing the auditorium. Bronsteel trapped, panicking soundlessly. In its place, the sound of mannequins shattering. For a moment, a thought pierced through the haze of Iraleth's weary mind: was this Umbralism? Had she made a mistake working with this shadow witch? 

Her father had brought up the differences between simple use of darkness Essence and full on Umbral abominations. Despite everything that was happening around her, Iraleth felt no sensation of utter malice. No [i]wrongness[/i] that had accompanied the cultists who burned down the orphanage. She would let it slide for the moment, then. Whatever was happening, it was so obvious that if this was an Umbralist, whoever was overseeing procedures here [i]had[/i] to have noticed by now and taken action accordingly. And Iraleth doubted the High Bishop had selected the incompetent to shepherd his dream. 

Something shattered, and Iraleth heard Bronsteel's screams and pleads once more. Evidently, he'd fallen from the auditorium stage somehow. Good. She hadn't yet worked out how she was going to have made it up there anyway. What elven blood flowed through Iraleth's veins afforded her limited sight in the darkness, and she could barely make out the outline of the privileged brat flailing about. It would be amusing, if she had any capacity to feel something that wasn't related to achieving her goal. One foot in front of the other. 

Iraleth flipped her sword around to hold it by the hilt in a reverse grip, and closed the last bit of distance. One of Gulliver's punches actually landed against her face, but it was so pathetic that any potential pain didn't even register with her. Her right hand slammed the pommel of her sword into Bronsteel's gut, causing him to double over. Her left snapped out in a sharp hook to his jaw. Even in her wretched state, she still had enough presence of mind to pull the punch, such that he was only knocked unconscious instead of killed by a plated fist. It might have been her addled mind simply playing tricks on her, but Iraleth could swear she saw a tooth fly loose. Or perhaps not. 

Regardless, she stared down at Bronsteel's unconscious form for a long moment, her limbs still twitching occasionally. A glance around the rest of the auditorium. Their battle had destroyed a significant amount of seats. She couldn't help but wince. If the faculty held the seating clause to be literal, Bronsteel might just get what he wanted in terms of limiting the amount of students. Iraleth didn't bother trying to vocalize any of this. She doubted she had the energy right this moment. Instead, she slumped up against the stage and practically collapsed into a sitting position, her sword planted into the floor next to her. Just a brief rest. She could afford that now that the threat was taken care of. There was still time before the deadline, right?