@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode@Sifr

IRIS RECORD

As the sun slowly retreated over the hills, tension filled the air around the campus. It wasn't known to the common rabble within the halls of the academy or the streets of the town, but a breaking point between opposites was to be reached tonight. A declaration that couldn't be revoked, an oath to the safety of the people, or simply personal grudges from two who had gotten along so poorly in such a short bracket of time? Regardless of the reasons of those who now resolved themselves to this battle, there was no fleeing from it. A cool wind blew through the plains around Wingram, bringing relief from a long and warm March day, and with it, the sobering chill of bloodshed for those who knew what was to happen.

As the clock struck 5:45 PM, the participants and any who wished to view the duel would be allowed entry in single file through the doors of the Iris Record. The two guards at the front would each bear tense faces, concerned that a dispute between students had already escalated to the extent that the arena would be required. Despite these reservations, they allowed the competitors through all the same, guided towards waiting rooms by Principal Raja herself; while a separate individual would guide the spectators to their seating around the arena. These spectators would be the first to see the arena itself, which was for its part, a rather unremarkable grey square roughly forty meters in length and width. Spotlights beamed on it from above, and a brown-cloaked man was near its center, sweeping away dust with his broom in the final minutes before the confrontation. Among the seated spectators was Valen Leuvalt, who leaned back in a corner chair - a few of his entourage on either side of him muttering amongst themselves. He looked down at the arena with disdain plain as day on his face, with the slightest glimmer, perhaps, of curiosity intermingled. Various guards also wandered and hovered near the entrances, keeping their eyes out for spectators not normally allowed entrance to this place, all in the hopes of preventing them from wandering anywhere unrelated to the arena itself.

The waiting rooms for the two competitors were separate small lounge areas on opposite sides of the arena that contained various refreshments of food and drink to enjoy with the ten minutes they were provided to prepare themselves. There was also a guard posted to each of their rooms just outside, to ensure they didn't wander into places unauthorized. Each of the two competitors, finally, would have been emailed a small poll with a single question, asking them if they preferred the company of calming woods or damp caverns in times of conflict.

All was set, and the competitors and spectators alike need only make their final preparations and await the beginning of Wingram's first duel.

Wingram, Iris Record
@Nanaya, @Psyker Landshark

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“Upon Iraleth Kyrios' victory, Ciara Ventura will detail the full truth of any connections she may have to Umbralism…”

Ciara was one of the first to walk past the guards, wearing a black, loose-cut outfit, and carrying a wide bag and a sword. It felt official. The ominous Iris Record, her within it, escorted by none other than the principal.

This was finally happening.

Ciara gave a cool stare, before she took a seat in her waiting room, setting the bag beside her, unbuttoning the flap. Her preparations were finally ready to be revealed. Three glass balls, filled with smoke and spice, were clipped onto the front of her belt. Three twigs were tucked into the back of her belt. Her dagger was sheathed on her thigh. Otis' blade was set beside her.

And lastly, she pulled a small satchel out of the bag. Within the satchel, she pulled out a fistful of dry grass. With a hungry gaze, she stared at the grass, before she opened her mouth, and breathed in. In time with the breath, the grass fizzled and crumbled into ash, slipping through her fingers as she devoured its essence. A finger touched her lips, closed eyes, and a small, satisfied sigh. Before, those eyes opened, revealing haunting red surrounded by black sclera.

Today, she would drown the light in darkness. Everything was on the line, and she was prepared, ready, to forgo the notion that they were ever friends in the first place.

It wasn't personal, it was just survival. And she was damn good at surviving, at grasping at threads to propel herself forward.

Often, she had to run from conflict. But when she no longer had that option, she could handle her own. Yes, running from the orphanages as a young child. But now? In her teens, she was the fighter. She was the contender.

She was the lion to be reckoned with.

They wanted a show, and she wanted to survive. So a show there would be.

They wanted to know of her connection to Umbralism, and she wanted to cut everything that dared associate her with the thought.

Yes, she knew, if she lost, she would be dissected like an animal. Or worse. Valen said her fate could be truly the worst. So it was a trial of the secrets. And though she, truly, didn't believe she was associated with Umbralism, her traits, her magic, what was within her, all spoke otherwise.

Today, she would be keeping her secrets.

Today, she would win.

To the poll, she, of course, chose the woods.

Iraleth grimaced in distaste as she beheld the Iris Record. Spectators? Really? This wasn't a competition to gawk and cheer at. This was life or death. Regardless of how many or how few there were, this was just obscene. What in Astra's name was the principal thinking? Nevertheless, she let herself be led to her waiting area.

A brief ping from her Adapa led Iraleth to check her mail, to which she tapped "woods" without further thought and turned away, falling to her knees and placing her hands atop her legs as she sat and waited.

Strategy. Iraleth had exerted herself as much as, or likely moreso, than Ciara throughout the day thus far, what with multiple uses of her Ethos. Fortunately, those hadn't been quite as full-burn as the previous day had been. Nevertheless, she wasn't quite fresh, no matter how much she'd taken the last few hours to rest and recuperate.

The witch wasn't stupid. She'd do something desperate to blot out light, give herself an advantage. That was fine. Iraleth was her own light. To be surrounded by shadow was expected. Both of them were melee fighters. Even if Ciara had any particular tricks at range, Iraleth had seen her fight already: she preferred melee. And up close? Iraleth was her better.

Ciara's best chance was to dictate the pace of the fight, suck Iraleth up into her rhythm. Conversely, so long as Iraleth powered through, this matter was finished. With the Inheritor's strength, that was a near guarantee. But it would also bear too much risk of striking a fatal blow. Iraleth's Ethos wasn't meant for anything but outright war. That idiot Bronsteel survived her yesterday by virtue of his contraptions taking most of the brunt of her blows. Professor Alto had still been her better, even with her Ethos. But if Ciara had any such protection or strength, she would have invoked it during either of those two battles. Or in the forest. No, Iraleth wouldn't call upon the Inheritor unless absolutely necessary.

Ten minutes passed, and Iraleth rose when she was bid to, following the guard into the arena without a word, her sword already drawn. They'd waited long enough. It was time to put an end to this matter.

@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode@Sifr

IRIS RECORD, ARENA

As the competitors entered into the arena on opposing sides, there was a measure of bleakness to the affair. For such a grand stadium, the silence was deafening, the spotlights bringing the only true measure of light in comparison to the dim glows that surrounded the spectator stands circling the outskirts. The janitor had just finished sweeping the arena right as they arrived, and slung his broom over his shoulder as he began walking away. He moved in the direction Ciara had emerged from, passing her by. He would look to her briefly while walking past her, and whisper, "Good luck," with a pat on the shoulder before continuing on his path out towards the exit. The smile he wore on his face was plastic as he hobbled into the unceremonious, shadowy hallway.

The arena itself began to mold as both competitors stepped upon it. In the middle was Raja herself, arms crossed, looking sternly at Ciara and Iraleth both as the grey slate beneath her shifted into vibrant greenery. Grass sprouted forth and overtook the entire floor of the arena, hurtling towards each fighter until the entirety of both sides was covered in fresh vegetation. The principal would nod at this, seemingly relieved, as if she wasn't sure it would work. "Still ironing out the kinks," she would mutter, then chop the air downwards with her hand. Directly down the middle of the arena, the grass would char away, leaving a small dividing line of scorched earth across.

"On either side of this dividing line, you may position yourselves to your own preference. This isn't like the capital's skirmish tournaments where we force you to start far away, but we aren't going to ask you both to touch noses either. Each side of the arena you're on will encompass twenty meters of range, but you may not venture beyond this middle line before the match has begun."

Looking once more to each side, Raja would put her hands on her hips and sigh. "This will be a fight until surrender, unconsciousness for a span of more than three seconds, or death. Having reviewed the context behind this duel, I would encourage each of you to try to avoid the last. If a killing blow is attempted after one of the other two win conditions have already been met, an official will step in to prevent it."

Raja would begin to walk away from the arena, leaving towards Iraleth's side. As she did so, she would remark, "Say your last words to each other, if any, within the next ten seconds. After that, the arena will become covered in greenery, and the forming of the wall around the arena will signal the start."

The principal would walk by Iraleth without so much as a glance, a scowl clear on her face as she retreated into the halls of the Iris Record, elsewhere.

After Ciara and Iraleth had exchanged words, or even a lack thereof, the entire arena would become overrun with trees, bushes and various plant life. It was dense enough to block line of sight between the two were they to start on opposite sides, though there was also a 6 meter radius clearing around the central dividing line, were they to both meet there without trickery. A solid yet clear wall of energy would surround the arena and connect at the top to form a perfect cage for the two contestants - from this point on, neither would leave without surrender or defeat.

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There was nothing left to say. Negotiations had been attempted already, and they’d broken down. Now all that remained was force of arms. Iraleth raised her sword and settled into her starting stance as the dividing line fell, surveying the field.

More than enough cover to favor Ciara’s ambush tactics on the outskirts. And she wasn’t stupid enough to face Iraleth head-on. That was fine. Iraleth wasn’t the one who had called for this duel. Ciara would no doubt attack first.

The paladin strode into the clearing, raising her sword up level to her head and settling into an ox stance as she extended her senses around her, waiting for Ciara to make a move.

“Really gonna start this without talking to me?”

The brush rustled as Ciara steadily approached, eyes locked on Iraleth. She only took a couple steps into the clearing, one hand on a glass ball at her waist, the other hidden behind her back. And beside her, Otis's sword, held in black.

Ciara studied Iraleth's face, before her eyes tightened. “We don't have to do this, you know.”

”I wasn’t the one that asked for this. I have already requested for you to recant the duel. Anything that happens next is on your head.”

Ciara snorted under her breath.

”Very well, then.”

In one fell swoop, she stepped forward, yanking a ball off its latch and smashing it into the ground at Iraleth's feet. As the ball shattered, smoke enveloped the area, seeded with chilli powder. If Iraleth were to remain where she stood, she would soon come in contact with the smoke, causing burning, watery eyes and blindness.

In the same instance, Ciara pulled a twig free and slammed it into the ground.

“Timber!”

A tree quickly sprung up, cracking the earth as its roots spread. Ciara grabbed a branch, catapulting herself into the air, over the smoke. And, as her quickling tree fell over and decayed, Ciara remained sailing in mid-air, hoping to dive down on Iraleth with her sword and surprise her with a mighty downwards blow.

Iraleth saw the glass ball in Ciara’s hand moments before it slammed into the ground, and was already hastily backstepping out of the smoke’s radius. That, however, put her in direct range of the tree crashing down upon her. The half-elf’s eyes narrowed. Ciara wanted her to evade. She wasn’t playing that game.

She raised her sword, glistening with Light.

”Cleave!” Iraleth roared, infusing her blade with the namesake Essence she’d just screamed out loud. A flash of steel, and the armored girl cut through the tree trunk cleanly, just in time to see Ciara crashing down upon her.

The paladin took her left hand off of her sword, raising it to grasp Ciara’s sword by the blade with her gauntleted, barriered hand out of midair and yank, aiming to slam Ciara by her weapon face-first into half of the tree she had tried to use against Iraleth.

Unprepared, Ciara found herself hurtled face-first into the crumbling tree. Her own personal barrier took the edge off, and moments later, the tree disintegrated.

”Is that all?” Iraleth advanced steadily, her left hand uninjured thanks to the Personal Barrier they’d just covered earlier that day. ”If you’d like to stop wasting everyone’s collective time, say the words. Say the damned words. You are not an Umbralist. Now either be one or surrender. This is a farce.”

Ciara only grinned, before taking a deep breath, and uttering “Lotharil.” Before she blew a cloud of pollen towards Iraleth. If impacted, Iraleth would get the seasonal sneezes and watery eyes.

In the next instant, Ciara had stepped into the shadow of her sword, reappearing on the ceiling, one hand holding onto one of the lights, her other hand twirling Otis’ blade. Darkness streaked down the tip, lengthening the sword by at least four times, and she swung it hard, aiming to take out all the overhead lights in one fell swoop.

Iraleth wasn’t able to evade the cloud this time. She burst through it as quickly as she could, her eyes burning and her nose tortured. Nevertheless, she held in a sneeze, refusing to give Ciara the satisfaction.

The lights went out, and that was the first move Ciara made this duel thus far that Iraleth had seen coming with a hundred percent certainty. For someone with the witch’s skill set, she would have had to practically bathe in darkness out to have any hope of victory. Not that Iraleth was going to let her have that uncontested.

Without hesitating for a moment, she raised her free hand to the air, an utterance sending an orb of light hovering up towards the ceiling. It shone across the field of battle, emanating a weak light that served to keep the shadows at bay, at the very least. Iraleth could have made the light stronger, but this was as much as she could maintain indefinitely without too much strain on herself.

Now, what advantage had Ciara bought herself with her few seconds in the dark…?

As the light illuminated the dark, it almost appeared like pulsating black feelers rippled all around her. They were thick, blocking out any shapes of trees. One could almost forget they were even in the Iris Record, looking out at this sea of feelers. Every direction looked, where the light grew weak, there were feelers, wriggling in madness, along the floor, in the air, and above, making a canopy of dense, writhing shadow.

Morphing in from the feelers, like pools of goo, forms rose up. They appeared like the shadow of people, or things, with each having different colored, piercing eyes.

“Finally! We see it with our own eyes!” One shadow spoke.

“It looks delicious.” Said another.

Arms morphed into elongated blades, as the shadows stared gleefully.

“It’s mine!” One called out on Iraleth’s far right. In two quick slides, the shadow was upon her, slashing at her side.

The rest of the four shadows followed suit, one swiping for Iraleth’s leg, another at her arm, one at her chest, and one from behind at her neck.

Disgusting. Iraleth sneered in distaste at what she beheld, her sword at the ready. Was this Ciara’s Ethos, then? It wasn’t quite the devastation that had ruined her orphanage, her village, but all the same, this shadowy madness brought up old nightmares that had haunted her for years.

The talking shadows closed in, and Iraleth burst into action in response. Cut. Kick. Punch. Headbutt. She tore through the shadows even as they clawed at her armor, rending gouges in the plate. Her glower intensified as she closed her eyes, relying on sound to try to pinpoint where the witch was hiding. Ciara may be stealthy, but Iraleth’s (half) elven ears still provided her some advantage in this regard.

And so it was. Iraleth would be able to hear the swish of a sword as Ciara crept up behind her and lashed out horizontally, hoping to slash her spine.

Her ears twitched. Of course she knew what a sword sounded like, considering she’d trained half her life thus far with one. Iraleth whirled around, parrying Ciara’s sword with her dominant hand. Her other hand reached out, grabbing Ciara by the throat and lifting her up with one hand in a chokehold. Iraleth began to squeeze. Not too tightly, given she wasn’t aiming to snap her neck. Yet. But enough to cut off air.

The sword fell to the ground with a clunk as Ciara struggled in Iraleth's grasp, hands clawing at the gauntlet.

She couldn't breath, panicked gurgles escaping her mouth.

Her red eyes stared down at Iraleth, a mixture of rage and shock written in them. Before they were all replaced with a growing urge to live, a panicked desire to breathe.

Her lungs burned. There was no lasping off into unconsciousness, no reprieve. Just burning, painful lack of air that drove every instinct to maddening ends.

That madness unhinged something in Ciara. A terrible monster lurking behind the mask.

In a terrible, and swift moment, Ciara opened her mouth, and with all her will, all the force in her mind, she moved essence in a ‘sucking’ motion.

The essence in question?

Iraleth's.

Pinpoints of light shone radiant in swirls as Ciara tore into Iraleth's prime essence, her soul, absorbing as much as she could. It was like a tidal wave of light leaving Iraleth and ending up in Ciara's mouth.

The taste almost made Ciara forget she was being choked.

Exquisite.

Her desire for more food, real food, became blind ravenousness, intent on devouring all of Iraleth's lifeforce, right then, right there.

She felt her soul being sucked away. What was this?! Iraleth’s grip intensified as she channeled Light in panic, purification magics running up her arm. That tore it. She’d finish this now, before Ciara could become a monster in truth.

It was a race against time on both ends. Would Ciara finish devouring Iraleth before the latter purified the former? In the end, the question was academic. The strain on both girls proved to be too much, and they collapsed next to each other in tandem, hitting the ground at the same time, neither rising. Barely breathing. The shadows melted away, leaving the ground marred.

He had wondered briefly, what would have happened if he had chosen to recall his sword back into the World Between Doors.

But alas, Otis preferred Ciara over Iraleth, and an overt betrayal with no follow-up meant nothing. He was happy enough to sit back and relax, his amber gaze having only settled upon the Leuvalt scion once before the start of the match. The rest? It was spent on observing the leylines, recording the doorframes, seeking out what arcane security measures were present. That environment-manipulating spell that the professor used was interesting. He made a mental record to review the footage on his Adapa. The leyline flux present must have played a strong part in it, but there was a finesse present as well, perhaps one more technically impressive than simply overlaying an ascended world.

Ah, but he shouldn't dawdle. The fight was fierce and explosive; the Strigidae couldn't spend too long taking in the sights. He slipped a gloved palm into one of his belt pouches, retrieving a small clockwork construct that he cupped in his hands. At an appropriate time, Otis feigned shock at Ciara's (admittedly heinous) move. Damaging someone's prime essence through sheer essence manipulation? Damaging the very essence that determined the functionality of one's organs, the amount of years one had left on this plane? He knew she had it in her, but wow.

Otis whispered an incantation into the brass construct, then smothered it into his seat.

A poor decision by the paladin. Who knew how much the Inheritor could have degraded from this?

Chunji wasn't faring well mentally and physically at the time. The amount of breathing exercises he had gone through became paramount in his effort to stay calm. No doubt he looked worse for wear when he appeared running straight towards the Iris Record. However, that disheveled appearance provided enough reasoning for the guards to allow him inside. They thought he was heading for the duel. He 'dumbly' nodded yes and followed along with their logic.

Despite achieving the first stage of his plan, Chunji was now stuck. Along with being escorted, there were guards stationed everywhere. The moment he'd use his Ethos would be when the guards would arrest him before he could get a good look at the interior. Chunji had no luck with the exterior, as its magical wards prevented even his Ethos from breaching outside. It was a blow to his pride, but he had to make do with what he had now.

Trying to persuade the guards was out of the question. Chunji had been a student for approximately two days and held no weight within Iris Record. They would scoff at his request for help.

Though he wasn't out of options yet, while the guards were talking to him, Chunji could discern some information about the details of the duel. Iraleth and Ciara were fighting off what Chunji didn't know. Nobody told him about this, which led Chunji to believe that everybody had already ostracized him from the group. Was it because of Professor Alto's duel? Chunji swayed away the negative emotions and focused on the matter at hand.

While his hands were tied, his classmates were not. Otis, Iraleth, Ciara, and Hildegrunde were within the Iris Record. They were in a much more unrestricted position than he was. Dayin manifested beside Chunji as he compiled a message to his friends. To the guards, he was hoping that it gave them the impression that he was contacting his classmates about the state of the duel.

Davil is in Iris Record, and his life is in grave danger. I have no idea where his location is, but I can confirm that he's inside the building. The Shade lurks.

Chunji prayed to the Great Lotus Serpent that at least one of his classmates saw his message. This was not a time for his friends to ignore his plea when someone's life was at stake. He was desperate for their help.

@ERode @Nanaya @Estylwen @Psyker Landshark @Sifr

@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode@Sifr

IRIS RECORD, ARENA

Only the returning, full gleam of the spotlight above brought some semblance of life back to the arena as the dust settled. Silence hung all across the arena, with many who watched from above holding their breath with the tension of the battle's finale. As it reached its climax, the two competitors fading on the arena floor, only hushed whispers from the stands filled the area with meek echoes. Some guards and overseers watched on in baffled awe, clearly having borne witness to a battle with Ethos usage for the first time - professionals in their field, but many of them nevertheless seeing such things as above their paygrade to contend with. Valen beheld the entire spectacle from start to finish with an expression of utter neutrality, his eyes darting about with each significant movement of the two combatants throughout, curious as to their approaches to such a life-threatening battle. A poker face nevertheless plastered itself to him, even as those that gathered near him expressed an array of emotion from shock, to jealousy, to amusement.

The very moment that Ciara and Iraleth had each collapsed for longer than three seconds, the entire forest vanished in an instant as if it were all a mirage, leaving the grey slate beneath them. A swirl of arcane energies manifested near Iraleth's body, and in the next instant, it dissipated; in its place, Nicole crouched there, funneling healing spells and curative essences into the paladin. It wouldn't be sufficient to fully heal the girl, but it would be enough to prevent further deterioration of her prime essence beyond what Ciara had already damaged - and more importantly, to stabilize her enough to halt the impending threat of death that otherwise loomed over her.

The undermage made no move to treat Ciara in that moment, clearly and entirely prioritizing Iraleth's survival, shooting the occasional glance at the shadow mage's body as if paranoid that some fell power would awaken and wreak havoc from her near-corpse. Her right hand even hovered over a wand holstered at her hip as she healed Iraleth, showing no signs of trusting that what was shown was all Ciara had - all an Umbralist had, in her mind. Essence drain to that degree, on a living thing? Such an act was, to a survivor of the apocalypse, one step away from essence deletion, and from the decay that followed.

One step away from Seedspawn.

Despite this, and arriving to the scene seconds later, with no other staff arriving to Ciara's aid, a dark figure darted out from the entrance that she had initially emerged from. As the individual came in view of the spotlights above, the sprinting visage of Michael dashed and slid to Ciara's side. Reaching under his cloak, he withdrew a flask of crimson liquid and uncorked it, raising Ciara's head up for leverage. "Hey, hey! Stay with us, alright? Shit," he'd shout as he poured the potion into her mouth. A heal spell in liquid form coursed through her body in that moment, and while it wasn't as potent as the treatment Iraleth received, it would stop her from an otherwise inevitable death on the floor of the arena.

"Wasn't supposed to go this far. The hell'd you do?!" Michael punched the arena floor as he stared down at Ciara, who he hoped would start to regain her senses by this point as healing magic flowed through her. The expression on his face was masked by the dingy hood covering him, only seen by Ciara, were she to look, as one of mixed parts frustration and worry. His smirk was nowhere to be found, not a jape in sight - just disappointment and anxiety that remained clear as day. "Why did ya even bother to learn those spells earlier if you were just gonna try to kill the kid anyway?! And, even once she recovers..."

The janitor didn't finish the sentence, simply looking away towards the paladin. Lost prime essence couldn't be regained - all the scholars in all the world had tried and failed to find a method, desperate to regain lost potential and restore their bodies, and even the greatest arcmages retired from that goal as dejected husks. He didn't dare finish the thought on his mind. Who was he to speak, in the first place, of lost potential? After all...

He knelt there near Ciara, looking back between her, Iraleth and Nicole with no more words to say.

As all this happened, Valen stood out of his seat, looked to each side of him at his entourage, and made for the nearest exit. He'd pass by Otis on the way, looking over his shoulder at the Strigidae while a half-step above him. Not even an ember of excitement traced through his gaze as he slowly looked back at the arena one last time, and at the crumpled figures in its center.

"They did not even halfway surpass the low expectations I had set for them, as challengers. As they, and by extension you are now, it would be as torching a crumbling beehive on a winter's night. The Iris Record is not for your ilk. When they have recovered, encourage them to pursue different paths. This life does not suit them."

With that, the red noble would ascend the stairs to the exit just above Otis, funneling out alongside the rest of his group. For Otis' part, observing security, the surface level security he'd undoubtedly uncover with enough observation would be the wards against detection and divination magic, rotating cameras scattered all throughout, and essence dispersers - thin metallic rods stuck to the walls that would, effectively, de-cluster essence and create a fog only perceivable with essence or magic enhanced sight.

The intent of a disperser is to act as a magnet for lingering nama and rupa, and to draw in the manipulated essence of others, rendering controlled location-based spells and manipulation near worthless. For example, were someone to try to pinpoint the prime essence of an individual that dwelled within a location riddled with essence dispersers, any attempts that would normally result in pinpoint accuracy would instead generalize to the entire area within.

Notably, security within the tower contained no Mannekin, to Otis' perception, other than the occasional doll that would have been seen carrying luggage or hauling boxes back when he was wandering through the halls to get here. Any individual ready to enforce the law within these walls was a person, to perhaps varying degrees of competence that couldn't be gauged with a simple look.

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@AThousandCurses

IRIS RECORD, 1F, HALLS

The chaos brought forth by Chunji's rush did indeed cause a comical misunderstanding, to where the guards assumed he was but another classmate here to spectate the duel, out of a combination of convenient timing and his status as a fellow student of Compact 3. In the minds of those out front, he was surely rushing due to tardiness, and he needed to be escorted to the stands to witness the battle with all haste! A man dressed in the typical attire of an Iris Record guard - black suit, steel baton, Rekordian clockwork pistol - escorted him through the halls of the tower and ever closer towards the spectator seats. He side-eyed Chunji as the boy tapped away on his Adapa, but gave it no mind. He was almost off shift, after all, so it wasn't his problem if the kid would rather be nose deep in a screen instead of stopping to smell the roses. Kids these days just wanted to play around on their leylights and their Adapa, and nobody ever just went to the park to play baseball anymore.

The middle-aged guard would simply grumble such things to himself as he turned corner after corner, ensuring Chunji was following. "We're almost there, son. From what I hear, it's already started, so if it's over by the time we get there, you have no one to blame but yourself," he'd chuckle, tipping up his aviators and slicking back his hair. Blissfully ignorant of Chunji's actions, unless he were to make it obvious with the incanting of a spell or activation of his Ethos.

Iris Record, Arena
@Nanaya

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Ciara's eyes fluttered, struggling to swallow, half choking on the potion offered to her. Sounds started to filter in. Her vision was hazy, but she made out the features of Michael, hovering over her.

"...Even bother to learn those spells earlier if you were just gonna try to kill the kid anyway?! And, even once she recovers…”

Ciara blinked, not quite comprehending. Her whole body felt strange. Like she was being flushed with cold water, then fire, over and over again. Like bad heat flashes.

Her eyes flickered over to two figures beside her. Iraleth, collapsed, the Head Advisor over her, illuminated with healing magic. She noticed the Head Advisor had, glancing at her every now and again.

Fear.

Same as the mistresses of the orphanages.

Ciara winced, eyes shifting back up to Michael. She remembered the sweet taste of her light, devouring it wholeheartedly, wholly prepared to go the full distance, to devour every last drop.

Ciara's face crumpled in shame.

“What have I done…?”

Her gaze shifted up to Michael. “I… I didn't mean…”

She took in a shaky suck of air, the tension in her body too much for her to handle, causing the edges of her vision to black out. It felt like she had dead weight strapped to every inch of her body, the healing potion desperately restoring what the purification had burned away.

Another few gasps of air, before Ciara weakly asked. “What's going to happen with me…?”

It was them she noticed her Adapa pinging. Ciara shut her eyes, the burden of her fight weighing wholly on her. A few breaths, before her eyes opened, and she summoned her Adapa, reading the email through slitted eyes.

The Adapa fizzled out, and Ciara's head leaned against Michael's support. She mumbled curses under her breath, before her eyes cracked open, and she looked at Michael desperately.

“Davil is here. In the Record. I have to-”

As she spoke, she slowly pushed herself off the ground, wincing with effort as black spots appeared in her vision once more. As she reached a sitting position, she huffed a moment. Her eyes descended on the stairwell beyond the arena, where she caught the tail end of Valen ascending up.

Growling under the effort, she forced herself to raise a little further, before she abruptly disappeared in the shadow of Otis’ sword. She appeared at the stairwell, taking a step before collapsing against the wall, leaning on it and the sword for support, before she took another step up, and teleported to the top of the stairs.

Duel be damned, where is Davil?

The full weight of having her Essence devoured came crashing down on Iraleth the moment she fell, raw adrenaline no longer fueling her. Even as a healer tended to her, she writhed in pain until her condition stabilized, having more than enough time to go over the duel through her haze of pain and exhaustion.

She'd made a mistake. Iraleth shouldn't have given Ciara the chance to be a monster. Every single parlor trick she had, until the very end, had been repelled without the Inheritor. With it, the duel would have been over in seconds. And now her Essence paid for her actions.

It wasn't as if it was the end of the world. Even in her state, Iraleth could tell that whatever Ciara had siphoned, it hadn't been much. Barely enough to dull her edge. In a close a fight as would require that last bit of raw power, she'd have to compensate with skill. Still, it was a reminder of the price of arrogance. One she'd not forget.

Her Adapa lingered in the corner of her vision, and Iraleth could see a message laid out for her.

Davil is in Iris Record, and his life is in grave danger. I have no idea where his location is, but I can confirm that he's inside the building. The Shade lurks.

From Chunji. Astra above, this was no time to rest, wasn't it? First, the obvious cry for help. They'd gone through too much on this day alone for Iraleth to just let Davil up and die like this, especially after ensuring he wasn't killed once already. And second...

"Sword." Iraleth rasped, fumbling about from where she was on the ground until her hand clasped the hilt of her trusty blade. She made an attempt to push herself to her feet, heedless of any resistance on the healer's part. If the staff weren't going to finish this, she was.

Save Davil. Kill Ciara. Save Davil. Kill Ciara.

While the other two girls had been prepping for the duel, the hunger growing in Hildegunde's belly made any attempt to do the same an exercise in futility. If she were to be able to function at an level in which she was capable of actually intervening if needed, there was no two ways about it; she needed to eat. And so she remained absent up until the last minute of the fight, pushing her way through the crowd that had gathered.

It proved futile all the same.

The duel all happened so fast. Or, rather, it had escalated in the blink of an eye.

Perhaps it was the growing smile of Freischütz in the back of her head at the thought of intervening - or perhaps it was just smiling at the violence before them. Maybe it was pure shock of witnessing the two almost kill each other. Regardless, Hildegunde found herself unable to act, every muscle in her body aching, screaming, the same six words, reaching a deafening crescendo.

Say the word. Pull the trigger. Say the word. Pull the trigger. SAY THE WORD. PULL THE TRIGGER.

All she did was watch as the two hit the floor in tandem.

...It was okay. They were being attended to, they were alive, it was okay. Hildegunde unconvincingly told herself this over and over again as she tried to determine what she should do, if anything, to help Ciara and Iraleth, or to leave it to the staff. Just as she frets over what to do, the decision is practically made for her.

Ping.

Davil is in Iris Record, and his life is in grave danger. I have no idea where his location is, but I can confirm that he's inside the building. The Shade lurks.

Davil. Hildegunde held no fondness for the boy, but a cry for help was a cry for help. Hypocrite she'd be if she ignored the plea. Besides, it was almost a welcome distraction.

Whether or not the girls followed her was irrelevant. Without a word, Hildegunde weaves her way out of the crowd in search of Davil, on high alert for danger, sending one brief message to Chunji as she does.

On it.

Chunji nodded before looking back at his Adapa. Someone had responded to his message. Anticipation soon turned into disappointment when he realized only one of the five recipients responded to his message. What made things worse was that only Hildegrunde answered to him. Were Ciara, Iraleth, and Otis not concerned? Especially the latter two? A frown graced Chunji’s features before smoothing out as he looked back to his escort.

Be careful would be the message Chunji would emphasize in his reply to Hildegrunde.

"In truth, I had no interest in spectating a clash between my teammates." Not that anyone notified Chunji that it was happening in the first place. "After the Attunement Ceremony, I headed to the infirmary to check on my classmates." Chunji needed to be careful. If Chunji says one wrong word, he might be placed in a disadvantageous position. "While I couldn't visit one of them, I did visit the other. Davil Wund. However, once I entered his room, he was gone. The only trace of his being would be several empty potions that contained no prescription. What was more concerning was the receptionist didn't even realize he was gone, nor was he logged as leaving the infirmary." Chunji gauged the escort's reaction.

"So, I investigated his whereabouts. All I could find was that he went into an alley far from here and some signs of leyline activity. Which lead me to some fears." The subtle movements of Chunji's eyes gave off an emotion of frustration. "You see, the reason why Davil Wund was injured was because of our Professor's lack of safety measures; not only was my peer hurt when he was teleported inside the Overcharged Leyline, but he was transferred into a different leyline when the Professor dispelled it." There was a curiosity about whether his words managed to hit home with Alto.

There was a pause in Chunji's next words. "My fear then was that my classmate had been caught in another leyline accident and had been spirited away elsewhere." While he was uncertain about the implications of his next actions, Chunji needed to ensure Davil was safe, even if it meant that it would result in expulsion. "With no lead, I decided to track Davil's Adapa with my own. Which led me here, to the Iris Record." Now, he wanted to ask the guard the main question. "Tell me, did Davil Wund go pass you to enter inside. And if so, where is he now? I am concerned for his health."

Was this a mistake? Chunji didn't know. He could hear some commotion off in the distance, but Chunji ignored it. Surely, his classmates were rational and didn't decide to rush up the stairs themselves.

Otis turned towards Valen as he passed.

“It was a disappointment, certainly. But what did you expect? Ah, don’t answer that question. I don't care.” He stood up as well, brushing something invisible off his pants as he did so. “As for me, they’ve met my own expectations until the very end. Neither truly wanted things to come to this, and did not commit.”

But noble ilk would see it as an excuse, and Otis had no interest in speaking with Valen further anyhow. A message from Chunji came in; it was read and then ignored. Ciara pushed herself up, disappearing into shadow once, then twice. Though there may not have been conclusive evidence yet that she was an Umbralist, her actions here had twice-damned her. Iraleth seemed not content with staying down, despite (or because of) the irreparable damage done to her future, and pushed herself up once more, no doubt prepared to pursue. And even Hildegunde was scrambling out now, as if the chaos of these happenings was the perfect opportunity to brute-force all the security present.

It was the perfect opportunity.

Otis descended into the arena. Principal Raja was gone, but the woman present was undoubtedly an individual that held authority too, judging by the sheer breadth of healing magic she could utilize.

“I am Otis Tan Arillo, from the same class as Ciara,” he spoke, gaze settling upon the undermage. “As you can see, Ciara’s Ethos grants her near-limitless potential for teleportation, especially now that it’s evening. However, I own the sword she wields.”

There was not a flicker of emotion, of hesitation, in his voice.

“With your permission, I would like to assist in her capture, before another victim is claimed in a moment of childish desperation.”

@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode

IRIS RECORD, ARENA

Nicole bit her lip in concentration at Otis' proposition, finishing her healing on Iraleth only for the paladin to immediately begin scrambling to her feet. As faculty, she truly should cease the knight's advance, but as an undermage? Servant of the wellbeing of the country, well on her way to becoming a full arcmage in her own right, alongside all those responsibilities to defend the peace? She couldn't help it - not in the face of determination, even were the actions motivated by that determination borderline suicidal after such a bout not moments ago. A torrent of thoughts swirled about Nicole's mind, all at once, before...

"Very well. The two of you may assist in securing Ms. Ventura. The agreement was that these suspicions would be dropped without question should she have won, but the results of this contest conclude undecided. After something so wretched as the draining of prime essence, we cannot allow her to roam free without proper interrogation and diagnoses."

Taking to her feet, the undermage would withdraw a tome from a custom-fitted bandolier under her cloak and crack it open, her eyes-closed gaze turning towards the direction Ciara had teleported to. She wouldn't try to whisper this, nor shout it - were the shadow mage to hear it, then so be it.

"If no other option is deemed possible for capture, lethal force is acceptable. Until otherwise proven, I declare that Ciara Ventura is an Umbralist and an enemy of the Union. Use any means necessary."

With that, slamming a hand on the open page of her tome and incanting, "Esper Hunt - Ice," a half-dozen orbs of ice would blast out of Nicole's book and rush towards Ciara at the top of the spectator stands. Should any of them get within a meter of Ciara, they would detonate, expanding into sheets of ice attempting to freeze her in place while digging into her. As this happened, Nicole would summon her Adapa, alerting the guards of the tower to be on watch for Ciara. The patrolmen dotted about the spectator stands would each point their clockwork pistols towards the shadow mage as well, stressing that she not move and to allow her own capture, and would fire if their words went unheard.

At the same time, Michael would watch on from just a few meters away from the newly formed band of Umbralist hunters, down in the arena proper, a hand extended towards Ciara in shock. After realizing what had already begun, however, it was grasped into a fist of self-defeat as he looked away.

"It really had to go this way, huh...?"

He withdrew from the arena grounds, back towards the waiting areas and presumably back into the tower elsewhere as the chaos ensued.

---

@AThousandCurses

IRIS RECORD, 1F, SOUTHERN HALLS

"Whoa, whoa, slow down. Let me take this in for a moment, okay?"

The guard would cup a finger under his chin and turn to the side, pondering - he'd clearly taken in all Chunji had said and waited for the boy to finish before replying, though once questions came into play, it was a bit much all at once. He stopped in the middle of the hall, just a little ways away from the entrance to the arena stands on the southern side, and turned to regard Chunji with a cocked eyebrow and a perplexed shrug. "Sorry, I don't remember. All of us who patrol and secure this place were given a list on our leylights of those attending tonight's duel as they came in, and I'd remember the name Wund - not often we see nameless randoms in these kinds of schools."

He'd reach an open hand out into the air, and a grey screen of solid light would be projected forth - a leylight, the standard essence-based communication model for citizens of the Vaalin Union that the Adapa was inspired by. Tapping the screen and scrolling, he'd turn it to face towards Chunji, upon which he could see the names of everybody who was allowed entrance for the purpose of the duel whether as a spectator or participant. He'd see the names of his classmates apart from Rio, Chloe and Davil, as well as Valen Leuvalt and Ozhiah Iyone, among other students of the Iris Record - though none lit up as the name he wished to see.

"Is this good enough? I mean, there's not much I can do for you the way things are now. You've only been approved for the spectating stands and the first floor bathrooms. Maybe your Adapa or whatever is malfunctioning? I'm no tech genius, but those things are pretty new, right?"

He'd place a gentle hand on Chunji's shoulder while looking down at him, shaking his head with concern.

"I'm sure your friend is fine. Have you checked the dormitory yet? For all you know, it really is just a malfunction and he's snug in bed by now. But, if you're not here to spectate the duel, I'm unfortunately going to need to ask you to leave."

Taking a step back, the guard would move to partially block Chunji's path further down the hall, gesturing back the way they came, his gaze lingering. "Just standard procedure. If he doesn't turn up by morning, we can initiate a more dedicated search, and I can promise you I'll bring it up with the head of security and with Principal Raja."

At that very moment, a notification would summon forth his leylight, with a very sharp ping, an emotionless voice stating, "Alert." The guard would furrow his brow, then look towards Chunji.

"Even more so now. Turns out your classmate's running rampant. Ventura? She's got the whole guard network on alert now. You should clear out, kid - Umbralists don't play nice."

---

@Sifr

IRIS RECORD, 1F, EASTERN HALLS

As Hildegunde took to the halls in search of Davil, she would be greeted not by guards telling her to leave, but rather a trio with pistols drawn and running the way she came from. One would turn to her before clearing the corner and order, "Evacuate the tower, student! An Umbralist has made her presence known!"

His words were stern, but there was fear in his eyes as he turned and began dashing to catch up to his peers, heading back towards the arena. She could hear the thundering of boots all throughout, with different forces mobilizing all about the first floor and barking orders. At the same time this fear meant that, in the chaos brought about from the mentioning of a potential apocalypse cultist, less eyes were on Hildegunde herself now. Security systems would remain in place, but the individuals involved in the enforcing of order were very much focused on the potential return of an ancient enemy - one that could not be allowed to find its footing ever again. Many guards were likely of the age that they had lived through the apocalypse, and as such, an alert that an Umbralist was present undoubtedly brought forth deep trauma in some, and a spark of revenge in others.

The halls, apart from the guards rushing to secure the first floor, were relatively empty. A few students would occasionally pass, walking briskly away from the direction of the arena.

So, that was the Guard's conclusion. Chunji acknowledged and refused the Guard's suggestion in his mind. He had hoped that the Guard would allow him in a little further, but Chunji wasn't hopeful for this outcome. "I understand. Regardless, I feel it is necessary as both a student and a peer to my classmates to see the duel. It is other disrespectful-" Then the commotion became loud and diverted Chunji's attention away from the scene.

The guard answered Chunji's confusion. "Ventura..." Chunji dropped any respectful honorific when Ciara's name came up. His already low opinion of her had dropped her below the requirement needed to look at her in a neutral light. A rare sigh escaped from Chunji. He made a mistake in trusting his peers. Bonds weren't forged in days, after all. "I see. In that case, allow me to participate in her arrest." Chunji petitioned the Guard. "She was my classmate, and I feel responsible for her irrational decisions." At first, it seemed like an appeal to emotion.

"It is also my duty as a student of Wingram Academy to extinguish those of dark who threaten the peace of the Vaalin Union. Even if I am not a hero now, allow me to bear witness to the subjugation of an Umbralist. It will be one of many steps I will take in my tenure as a student." With his plea finished, Chunji looked at the Guard to confirm his response.

In all honesty, he couldn't care less about what happened to Ciara. While he did find responsibility for his part of actions, her every action up until now did nothing but label her as nothing more than a boar. He would take personal accountability when his message came to light. "My Ethos allows me to track down whoever I see. It would no doubt pierce the veils of darkness that would arise in the coming fight." Chunji gave a reason why he should participate. This stenography on his Ethos was needed. Chunji had revealed the full extent of his powers, but the Guard wouldn't have allowed them to be utilized.

If he was allowed, Chunji would immediately activate his Ethos. He'd immediately focus on Ciara and especially on Davil. Anything else was obscured to his sight. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in more trouble. Chunji would follow the Guard to where Ciara was at.

Iris Record, First Floor Stairwell
@Nanaya, @Psyker Landshark, @ERode

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"If no other option is deemed possible for capture, lethal force is acceptable. Until otherwise proven, I declare that Ciara Ventura is an Umbralist and an enemy of the Union. Use any means necessary.”

So that was it, then. That's what this little duel had been reduced to. What she had been reduced to.

It made her seeth.

Ciara spun on her feet, her red eyes glaring as she saw orbs of ice sailing towards her from the Head Advisor. These were countered fairly quickly, as thick tentacles with sharp ends lunged out from her shadow, piercing each orb with a spike and halting its momentum.

That, however, left her hanging in the opening at the foot of the stairwell, giving the guards enough time to get their bearings. Instead of heeding their warnings, she instead locked eyes on Otis, standing right beside the Head Advisor and Iraleth.

With a snarl, shadow exploded from her. The shape of a dragon over her head, two wing-like hands, monstrous, and a tsunami of black, cascading down from the top of the spectator seats, all the way down to the arena, aiming to knock every single one off their feet. The guards, the Head Advisor, Otis, Iraleth; all of them. It would give her just a second, a precious second she needed to be free of bullet hell.

She hefted Otis' sword, and threw it point-first directly at him from where she was in the the upper stands.

"I'll find him myself!"

And she fled up the stairs, teleporting all the way. She spared a look back as she heard shots fired, and a piercing pain struck through her on her lower back, through her abdomen. She immediately pressed on it, hunkering over, a moan escaping her.

Pulling her hand away, she saw red. Slicked blood. She'd been shot. If she wasn't careful, she'd be shot again before she bled out entirely. A whispered curse, and she pressed her hand again against her abdomen, teleporting to the top of the steps.

There were thunderous footsteps behind the door at the top. And behind her, racing as fast as they could, more footsteps desperate to catch up with her. Ciara cursed again, before she slammed the door open with a wing-like shadow hand, the other shooting into the room, clawed shadow fingers aiming to scoop up the people on the other side and smash them into the wall. She would hold them there, pressing ribcages until she could hear snapping, before she staggered into the halls. Blood dripped from her freely, but the pain only surfaced in a wince on her face, eyes hot and focused as she teleported further down the halls.

Dammit, Davil, where are you?!

He doubted that the woman would have drop those suspicions even if Ciara had won though. The draining of prime essence served as evidence enough to change one’s mere suspicions into a proper accusation and trial, so why even mention it?

Her magic though, was the real deal, as was the look of betrayal and hatred that the shadow-witch leveled upon him. He stared back, amber gaze unflinching and emotionless, before letting out the smallest of shrugs. Ciara had plenty of opportunities to come into the duel with an advantage. Instead, she had prepared a handful of parlor tricks before immediately depending upon her Ethos.

And, in the face of that shadow beast, in the face of that black tide? In the face of his own sword, being flung back towards him?

The Strigidae made one simple move: he stepped behind the adult, leaving her to handle everything. And what followed? Pure performance.

“As you’d likely know by now, Ciara’s Ethos draws greater strength from shadow. That, combined with her teleportation capabilities, means that conventional methods of tracking down her location is meaningless.” Otis was here to assist, of course, but it was simply a waste of time, chasing after someone like that. “I’ve noticed the cameras installed within the Tower. They’re all connected to a central magical array, yes? If you can grant me access to that array, miss, I can alter their essence to make them light-emitting, rather than light-capturing. If there is a system in place for locking down doors as well, let me handle their operation; I’d imagine she’d seek shelter in those places once it becomes clear that the corridors are flooded with light, so we can manipulate that to control where she goes.”

This was the kind of crisis that offered plenty of opportunity, after all.

“Ciara has participated in two taxing battles today, one in the morning and one this evening. I doubt that she had substantially rested either. Miss, please coordinate the guards via Adapa in a manner that ensures they keep their distance from her. Though she may reach rebound, there is also the possibility that she will be able to offset rebound by consuming others’ essence. That would be disastrous in its own right, considering the amount of Ethos-bearing students present within the Tower.”

After all, Valen and his clique had only left but a few moments ago, and in no particular rush either. Valen could undoubtedly protect himself, but how many more potential heroes could be ruined, if Ciara really applied her hunger?

Chunji's second message is seen, but not acknowledged. Likewise, the guard was very much heard by Hildegunde, but she does not bother wasting her breath on him. She does not even stop when addressed.

Her focus is on one thing, and one thing only right now. Not out of any fondness, barely out of a sense of duty; almost entirely as a means of grounding herself. To keep her fear and the chaos around her at bay. To not think about what she had just seen. A simple, straightforward task.

Find Davil.

Fleeing from the tower due to The Umbralist - or whatever other sort of monster Ciara revealed herself to be - was counterproductive to that end.

The Hunter continues to explore the halls, hand on her rifle. Her eyes darted about as she searched for any signs of the boy, with the same rapt attention that she would give when hunting down signs of prey. At first, she kept silent in fear that the guards would try and stop her, but once she realized they were focused more on capturing Ciara than evacuating the students, she grew bolder. If whatever was putting Davil in danger heard her before the boy did?

A problem to deal with later.

"Davil Wund!" Hildegunde would cry out periodically as she raced through the halls at a steady pace, swiftly bypassing the fleeing students.

Iraleth jerked her head sharply in the Strigdae's direction as she finished pulling herself up to her feet, her eyes locked in a glare. Somehow, just somehow, she doubted he was offering to help out of any real concern for the situation. Likely this was all part of some inane plan of his. Well. She had a plan of her own.

Ciara's shadow dragon descended upon the area, and Iraleth simply presented arms, intoning.

"On borrowed wings."

The Inheritor formed into being, most of its form as radiant as ever. With one exception. A single jagged scar ran down the helmet, marring the armor forevermore. For her part, Iraleth didn't notice such, bracing the Inheritor's shield in front of her to guard against the shadow tsunami. Once it concluded, she took flight immediately.

Iraleth kept her shield braced in front of her as she flew at top speed, not bothering to slow down in her pursuit of Ciara as she crashed through doorways and walls, following the shadows and the trail of blood she left behind.

It was such a shame that there would be no possible method to keep her restrained. Iraleth would find some half-baked justification later. But after that display, she doubted she'd even need one.

@ERode

IRIS RECORD, ARENA

The bodies of guards were sent flying from the sheer force of dark magic - and whether from shadow conjuration or true Umbralism, it mattered little to those affected. As the tower's guardians tumbled across the stands and some few students remaining scrambled to run and flee, semantics no longer mattered, as to them, a full Umbralist devout had revealed themselves this day. This would indeed provide the opening for Ciara's escape, even as a stray bullet struck her, and even as more guards awaiting her outside quickly fell victim to unknown carnage. The sound of cracking bones outside could be likened to the echoing snaps of a campfire growing in intensity, though the screams sounded as if hell itself was the eastern hallway just outside the arena.

On the part of the Undermage still within the arena square, a quick muttering of "Ul'al'Astramis," echoed out from under her breath as she raised her wand outward toward the encroaching dark. The tome she was holding began to flip rapidly through pages as a storm of wind emerged both around her and in front of her, until a half-sphere of solid essence in the form of wind, facing towards the shadows, formed. It guarded against the onslaught and held firm to protect both herself and Otis, the shadows that came in contact writhing away and dissipating as if in fear. After a few seconds of this, and once the assault had ended, the wind dispersed. Nicole looked over to see Iraleth already pursuing despite her current state, and with a click of the tongue, muttered, "That one is going to meet with an early grave."

Upon turning to Otis and hearing his words, she would ponder on this a moment while flipping through her tome with her left hand and holstering her wand with her right. "Very well," she would blurt out without much hesitation. "I will take on the blame for this should anything arise from granting such privileges to a student. At the moment, what matters most is the capturing of the Umbralist filth that ravages the innocent even as we stand here. Decisive action is required."

Nicole's Adapa was summoned forth, and Otis would receive a mental ping requesting to share Iris Record security privileges for a period of one hour from the time of acceptance. "I will rely on you to carry out the actions of which you have detailed, they are indeed possible with these privileges. In the meantime, I will give chase while communicating with the security team and... informing the warden." She spoke her last words with a measure of hesitance, but nevertheless, began to run out of the arena and towards the northern exit that would eventually lead to the first floor's halls.

---

@AThousandCurses

IRIS RECORD, 1F, SOUTHERN HALLS

The guard gave a half-smirk towards Chunji, nodding his head. "I get paid to protect this place, but you're right, eh? They're training you to defend the whole damn nation and beyond, so far be it from me to deny anything like that. I guess if I catch heat for this later, I do, but just stick by me, boy - you won't get hurt if you let me block the strays. The way Umbralists fight and what's required to eventually take the strong ones down, lemme just say... lots of collateral damage."

As he finished saying this, the sounds of screams would ring out, echoing like a sickening choir up and down the halls of the tower. Upon Chunji activating his Ethos, he would be able to see the layout of the first floor - and more importantly, he would see Ciara beyond many walls and hallways to the northeast of his current position. The fastest way at this point would certainly be to cut through the arena via its southern entrance to the stands, and out the eastern exit at the top of the stands that Ciara had most likely taken to flee the arena grounds. As this happened, guards would be barreling out the southern entrance directly in front of Chunji, guns drawn and with fear in their eyes as they took cover in the halls. A few withdrew health potions and downed them, while others prayed to Astra, and others still summoned their leylights and began reading over something intently.

The guard, for his part, would also read his leylight and turn to Chunji, shrugging. "Current orders say to stay away from the Umbralist while others in authority tend to the problem. That most likely means either faculty, Raja, or the warden and his team. In any of those cases, that means your classmate is probably toast. Sorry, boy."

Scratching the back of his head, the guard awkwardly looks away, before side-eyeing Chunji with a dimpled cheek. "We also don't exactly have any right to pursue at the moment, so unless we feel like breaking some rules, the best thing we can do is hunker down."

Despite this, a vein brought on by anger was clear on the man's face, his body seemingly shivering in frustration and anticipation. His words were an attempt at a responsible adult, but his visage was that of boyhood trauma bleeding through in the form of vengeful thoughts. He was certainly old enough to have been, perhaps, a powerless teenager back during the days of the Five Year Apocalypse.

---

@Sifr@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark

IRIS RECORD, 1F, EASTERN HALLS

The halls were crimson, the screams guttural yet cut short in the heat of the moment; each nevertheless contributing to the roaring symphony of torment that the Iris Record's first floor had quickly become. As Ciara made her way down the hall, she would eventually teleport to an intersection upon which she would notice a familiar face, and that face would undoubtedly recognize her as well. Ciara would see Hildegunde in front of her, and were Hildegunde to be keeping a look out, she would see Ciara as well. This would likely be easier due to the screams farther back in the direction Ciara had emerged from, though it would depend purely on the two at that moment what they would do.

At the same time, the sounds of rumbling from the direction Ciara came from would intensify and grow louder, until eventually it was obvious that it was the sound of... walls breaking, perhaps? The originator of those noises would soon arrive on the scene as well, if it were a person at all.

And from the other part of the intersection not occupied by Hildegunde, a figure would stand there, staring at the shadow mage. It was Ozhiah, his sunken eyes observing her with a measure of judgment, taking in her state. "Lord Leuvalt declared it folly to turn back and see what the mobilization of security was for, but I for my part could not ignore it. Bearing witness to your current state here, now..."

He would crouch into a low stance, one arm extended behind him and the other towards Ciara, both palms facing upward. A faint wind blew around him, watching and waiting. "If you give yourself up now, you will not feel pain when the hammer of order is brought upon you. Of this, I can be certain."

All this, and Ciara could hear a chuckling in her mind. It was from the low-yet-high voice, the shadow that separated itself from the rest. "It appears the curtain call may soon arrive on this performance of yours. What will you do, I wonder? A mark has certainly been made, and scars thought mended have reopened for many tonight. Is this Ciara Ventura? Will this be her last dance, bleeding and limping like a cornered animal, prancing like a court jester soon to knowingly reach the king's guillotine?"