[center][youtube]https://youtu.be/c8GIM-MJ7lM?si=414PZWMEjso3QUp1[/youtube][/center] [h1][u]Ciara Ventura[/u][/h1] [i][color=gray]Wingram Academy, Auditorium[/color][/i] [@Nanaya] [@ERode] [@Psyker Landshark] [@Sifr] [@AThousandCurses] [hr] [i][b]"Agreed. I refuse to let you commit a massacre. If you have even a shred of vaunted Nero's integrity, you will stand down, Leuvalt."[/b][/i] The knight gave Ciara a nod, which she returned. It meant she wasn't going into this alone. [i][b]"Third Shield: Repel!"[/b][/i] A loud crash. At the foot of the stage, a boy dressed in black prepared to defend the audience from the killing spell being cast. Three against one. Ciara liked those odds. However, she had to remind herself Valen claimed to defeat nearly every student outside. From the expressions on the students' faces, Valen was no easy foe to fight with whimsically. The knight, and this boy dressed in black, both were exhausted. Ciara considered herself, and her exhaustion levels. She had spent the morning fighting off Mannekin and manipulating shadows on a mass level in the darkness of the auditorium. By all intents and purposes, she should be exhausted as well. However, using her Ethos as a package runner daily gave her a bit more endurance. She could keep going, but not for long. Her eyes hovered on Valen, watching his every move. As he saw three enemies prepared to stop him, the symbols faded. But what he said... chilled her to the core. [i][b]"Shadow magic, is it? I suppose Vaal Shakta is more lenient with practiced Umbralists, but I was not aware that the good Verne lacked the sense to ship your ilk off to Mirris."[/b][/i] [b]"How dare you."[/b] Came the sudden and sharp reply. Mirris. A place she would likely be sent to die, if she were to ever find herself in the unfortunate circumstances of being even remotely close to such a hostile place. There would be no essence eradication, no package running. They would only see her like how her home saw her. A monster. A threat to the peace that heroes struggled and died for. A remnant of an ill-boded age where darkness ravaged and devoured the world. In less than a few seconds, Valen had reduced Ciara to that small child abandoned on a doorstep. It was enough to cause Ciara's blade to press a little more hungrily against his throat. [b]"Say that again, I dare you."[/b] A pause. [i][b]"I suppose the world is changing with each passing day, and we now find ourselves united: those that worship the Leuvalts and those that worship dark art madmen like First Shepherd Meer in the same halls, blades trained at the same enemies."[/b][/i] It was that statement that caused Ciara to snap out of her bloodlust, staring at the knight who stood stoically on the front side of Valen. From a distance, it was all rather striking. The virtue of virtues, and the mistaken darkness, who could never truly escape her own shadow, united against a common foe. It was almost poetic, if she didn't abore the notion of Umbralism to her very core. She pulled her blade away, but kept it unsheathed, as he sipped from his wine. As he spoke, her expression narrowed. [i]A jape?[/i] All of this was his idea of a sick joke? [i][b]"Umbralist or not, fuck around and you will find out."[/b][/i] The hunter said, standing beside the knight. Ciara's gloomy expression showed the slightest hint of gratitude at that, the hunter quelling the storm inside the young shadow weaver. Ciara looked at the hunter a bit more closely, finding herself curious. Grey. Lots of grey. But within the grey, the hunter's aura showed hints of purified light. Not as strong or refined as the knight. But enough to mark the presence of a person who did their best in any circumstance. The echo of footsteps. [i][b]“That is enough.”[/b][/i] She glanced over. Otis had taken center stage, chiding the young boy dressed in black, who was struggling to stand. From the corner of her eye, she saw it. A leftover Mennekin, and the first chair to be gifted. With just a handful of minutes left on the clock, they were reaching the next phase of Otis' plan for peace in the auditorium. With a final glare directed towards Valen, Ciara sheathed her dagger. As she stared, she made a vow. One day, she'd make him eat those words. She then returned to the front of the sage and stood near Davil and Otis, watching the students form their rows as ordered. The analyst lurked in the shattered seating areas near the back of the auditorium, tending to a girl she didn't recognize. Cirar's own eyes glanced at the clock, then around the edges and crannies of the auditorium. Time was short. Had they prepared enough for when the faculty would finally arrive?