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Used the remaining action from the last round to have Yasu pre-emptively advance.

Then used one action this round for Yasu to slice the whip in half, using its own force against it. Reserving two actions to do further shitfuckery afterwards.

"Whoop, there you are!"

Yasu caught Niid as he was knocked back into her, holding the cybernetically and chemically enhanced boy by his hips as she spun around, a dancer swinging her partner. A moment later, he found his feet on the ground and found Yasu advancing further.

Visions of death were commonplace, and the scepter of death itself was even more so. Factories would grind their workers to bone meal. The underworld was chocked full of corpses that would never move on. Every day, Fixers arrived to replace the Fixers that left. Every night, a light turned off was a life taken swift. Gun retorts and the sigh of a knife. Spatial rupturings and the whispers of the mind. A few seconds ago, it had been that green finger, hidden in the shadows cast by the projector. Now, it was the ringleader, arm cocked back and rippling with muscles that had not been there a moment before.

Visions of death simply indicated the Boundary of Death.

And the best Fixers learned to walk right on that edge.

The cross burned bright within her odd-eye, showing her the myriad Yasus who made the same choice as herself. As one, they launched themselves forwards. As one, they gripped their sword. As one, they swung out, the beloved blade swirling with their own lifeforce. All for the purpose of slicing that whip in half.

Coins spun in the heavens above, but she never worried about the result once she set it into motion.

Whether heads or tails, whether success or fail, Yasu remained fearless.

Because live or die, Yasu always survived.

There was a lot Verity could say, of course.

She could go on about how this must be a world that was way more fantastical than expected, if monsters such as the frog could appear and then disappear like the mist. She could talk about the necessities of gathering food and water and shelter, as the nights would definitely be a killer when all they had was swimwear. She could mention that 'Persona' was a weird word to use to invoke magical monsters. If Maive's Persona was full of hot air and Daniel's Persona was the incarnation of death, what exactly did that say about the two of them?

Probably that they were both fucked up human beings. Not that Verity cared enough to think any further than that.

Except even that was what she would consider an extraneous thought, when she noticed one of the weaker boys crawl over the spring and then crawled in.

Disappearing, just like that.

"Ah. That makes no fucking sense."

But it'd explain where Victor went. Where Sofia went. Was the internal logic here 'saltwater foreign, freshwater home' because humans could only drink freshwater? Because humans depended on freshwater sources to found civilization? If she left now, could she ever return again? If she left now, could she return, but this time with everything she needed to truly explore? Across the ocean, within the islands, searching for new springs and new beasts?

Well, no matter.

"Peace."

It took ten seconds for Verity to walk into the spring.

It took an eternity before she could walk out of the toilet.

A moment before it was too late, Serenity realized her misjudgment. The strong shadows cast by the lightning witch’s spellwork made her gauge the height of the ceiling incorrectly; there was no room to leap over the ancient knight, and it was only with some fortune that the shockwave of his sword swing struck before his sword did. A blast of force sent her back, slamming into an unfortunate undead. She rolled with the impact, her mace driving a hole through the skull of another.

Skull fragments scattered against the floor, matching the tempo of the crunching of nuts, the arrival of Sir Steffen. Help and harm came in equal measure, and that battle axe could do what she could not.

“Ignore the demon and the witch. Break the barrier. Save the girl.”

Fanilly’s blade pierced into the gaps of Erich’s armor, Gerard putting his everything to disarm the Demonbreaker’s sword. The shield arm was left unchecked though, and Serenity could spare no more time catching Steffen up to speed.

She too ran, a golden shadow amidst the disorderly hordes. Shooting to Erich’s other side, Serenity brought back her mace and swung for the stained legend’s skull, following up one beat later with a second swing from her hatchet. Two blows in sequence, to keep the shield occupied long enough for Gerard to finish or to crack open his head Erich would expose his flank in order to protect his ewpon. Either was good, and neither was fine. Because if Sir Steffen was there, then soon Sir Fleuri and Sir Vier would arrive too, and the tides of battle truly would shift.

In the absence of proper gear and optimal conditions, in the absence of heroes and paladins, numbers alone would still make the difference.


While other students may have had the chance to have gotten acquainted with each other on the way there, Andrion had arrived at the monastery long before the others had. There were formalities to be performed, after all. Names to pay his respects to, as a child of the Church. He had spent the last month sequestered within the Irinduil Monastery, tempered by his austere surroundings and the natural beauty of the mountain it was built upon. Perhaps the priests and nuns thought him more pliable in isolation, figured that some time away from the Lower City would be enough to work the guttertrash out of him.

Turning a blind eye to the fact that he had lived in a Church-affiliated orphanage. Ignorant to the fact that he found the pleasures of the flesh to be the same sort of pleasure one could derive through appreciation of untamed majesty and the satisfaction of simple chores. Humans were of flesh and blood. All that they did, so long as it was rooted in their body, was natural, was good.

Still, when the month had passed and others of the Officers Academy began trickling in, Andrion had to confess: he wasn't so impressed. The girls, especially the ones that were set to be house leaders, were almost remarkably unremarkable, with proportions that were almost mannish! How could they, with ample opportunity for exercise and the diet that only wealth could provide them, end up with such disappointing figures? Why, the Francette girl had hips that were undoubtedly narrower than her shoulders! And the men too looked more like children than, well, men. Even the grimmest, most serious looking of them seemed to have forgotten to get a haircut for the last three years and now, every one of them seemed to sport the sort of vagabond-spikes one would expect out of a highwayman. Or a prostitute.

Maybe foppishness and androgyny was the natural state of even the finest military talents amongst the nobility though. Or maybe they figured that following in the footsteps of the archbishop and the professors would gain them some sort of advantage. Andrion wouldn't pretend he understood it.

Oh, but he did understand expressions and whispers, the sniggering slyness of a blue-blooded waif.

"What's this, House Leader?" Andrion's voice, unlike Sherry's, echoed against the walls of the garden. "The tour's hardly started, and you're already gushing over our venerable Archbishop's fine looks?"
How many coins do we have per clash?

//Day 0 | Location: Nameless Forest - Clearing

“Shit!”

Not expecting Ayana to be so stubbornly suicidal, Tsubaki could only watch as the willful girl broke out of her grasp and immediately ran towards the burning bus. For a moment she chewed the inside of her mouth, gauging the chances of catching her before it was too late, but…Damnit, if she was going to risk it, then it was on her to do so! The short-haired girl took another glance towards Ayana before turning away and running for the others.

Ayana now, was definitely alone.

Gasoline fumes struck her head-on as she approached the bus, the oily stench mixed with that of roasting meat and boiling blood. Already, she could feel her face drying up before the blaze. It wasn’t an inferno, but that didn’t make it any less daunting for her to dive into, if Ayana had any sense of self-preservation to begin with. She did not. Whether fearless or foolish, whether courageous or outrageous, she braced herself for the heat as best as she could and jumped right in.

The foam of the seats had become fuel for the fire, and the shattered windows became vents that funneled more oxygen in. She could scarcely breathe, could scarcely see! Through teary eyes, she stumbled about, barely making out the silhouette of Yuudai, splayed upon the ground. Dead? Unconscious? She couldn’t tell, but there were crazier things that drew what sparse attention she had to spare.

There was Shun, that motorheaded nerd who always skipped swimming classes during PE, swinging with a punch that should have done nothing, and yet!

The flames themselves rippled at the impact of the strike, Shun’s fist rising skywards as it collided with the wolfbear’s jaw and sent it flying. The mountain of muscle slammed against the ceiling of the bus, leaving an indent of its own form in the smoke-stained surface, shards of teeth shattering from the impact. But it wasn’t enough yet, and as it landed, it charged for Shun, both of its frontal limbs slamming against her own arms. Whatever had happened to her, she had grown stronger as a result, but that was only enough to give her a chance at fighting back.

And so, in the inferno the beast and the bike-nerd struggled, fur singing and skin blistering, each of them trying to gouge out the others’ flesh. With a damaged jaw, the wolfbear could no longer bite, but that didn’t stop it from slamming its forehead against Shun’s own, forcing her back with its superior mass and reach.

Something else needed to happen in order to change the tides. Something that only Ayana could do.

Would she save Yuudai and get him out? Or would she help Shun, and push the beast back?

Above them, the ceiling creaked. It would collapse soon.

---

“What?!” Maki’s cry sounded even as Masato ran for the scattered tools. “Idiot, just r-”

For all the experience that they all had, after all, it was unlikely that as Japanese middle schoolers, they would have really watched any clips of bull riding on Youtube. If they had, perhaps Masato would have known: when it came to riding on animals that really, really, really wanted you to fly off, records were measured in seconds. Measured in seconds, for fully grown adults who had professional experience and a proper sadly.

All the student council president heard, as he hurled a hammer towards Kogen, was a short cry, followed by a heavy thump some distance away.

And then it was just him and the beast, and he had committed too much to run away now.

“Dumbass. You’ve long gone over the edge. Stop pretending like you can climb back out.”

A flicker of a memory, and then he was charging, every heart beat thunderous, every movement slowed to a crawl. It was familiar. It was the cusp of an unforgettable moment. Like when he threw a fist for the first time, watched someone’s flesh contort beneath his knuckles. Like when he threw a ball for the first time, watched it spin and then sink beneath the wooden bat. Claws, rippling through the air. His body, tearing at itself to drop even a millisecond faster.

And then he hit the dirt. Scrambled in the grass. Grasped hind legs of the wolfbear with such force he almost felt as if he was grasping its very bones. And in return, he could feel the dull scraping of its hooked claws against his back, could feel cloth shredding alongside flesh and skin. Could only dully register that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would have.

And he could only hope that Kogen didn’t run away.

Kogen didn’t.

What choice did the One-Eyed Demon have, after all?

Two girls were basically dead, and his friend was sacrificing his very body to hold down the monster before him. What choice did he have, except to perform? Two hands on the handle, cocked back like he was going to strike a homerun! And with all the might in his body, Kogen swung!

Hammer struck jaw, and it was the jaw that won.

The laws of motion played out after, the shock of his own strike hitting his hands with such force that it shot up all the way into his skull. Kogen couldn’t even feel his hands now, fingers spasming, forearms trembling. What the hell was this? Why didn’t that work?!

Time continued on, irrespective of his scrambled thoughts.

He was in close combat, after all. And though Masato did his best to prevent the wolfbear from moving, it didn’t need to move if a softer snack was so willing to rush up to it. Hooked claws wrapped around the delusional boy, slamming him down into the ground and upon his own friend, before the wolfbear’s jaws opened up, saliva spilling out as its two-pronged tongue flicked over its serrated teeth.

Only now, staring into the maw of death, lungs squeezed of air, the futility of his delusions opening up to swallow him whole, did Kogen understand.

It was as anime had always taught him.

Only heroes could destroy monsters. Mobs only existed to fulfill a statistical tragedy.

---

It fell apart so quickly, the moment mortality was realized.

Daisuke had seen his mother disembowel fish before, slicing open their belly to scrape out their organs. It had been so clean back then and she had done it so quick, the water running all the while to wash away the scraps.

This…this wasn’t that.

Duncan’s intestines were hanging out of his chest, ropes that stank of blood and bile. Hiroshi’s trivia flickered through the captain’s mind, about how a human’s intestines could stretch the length of a bus, but it was the memory of his mother that forced his next hand. After disembowelment came the beheading.

“AGH!”

Springing off from his own position, the golden-haired youth shoulder-slammed Duncan just as those hooked claws whistled inches away from his neck. The two of them tumbled together some distance away, but with the disappearance of the biggest boys around, the tables had turned. Kunio sensed the danger immediately, kicking his twin brother away as the wolfbear kicked out. Sasuke rolled away aw the beast’s weight shifted, realizing that it was impossible to take on a beast so thickly muscled in a contest of attrition and strength. Yuki, one step too late, could only afford a short scream before the monster’s jaws clamped over his right shoulder and flung him away. He skipped off the grassy field thrice before landing in a heap.

And like that, there was nothing holding the wolfbear back now. Splinters from the burning branch fell off its head, Asahi’s rage entirely impotent. But despite that impotence, it still drew the monster’s attention.

He had been the first to start waving that branch.

He was now the last who was still standing, his branch now the length of his fist.

And thus, surrounded by classmates injured and dying, classmates in no shape now to even entertain the idea of trying to take on this beast again, this beast that proved impervious to all their efforts once more, the decision presented itself once more.

Would he run, or would he fight?

Blood dripped down his hands, drop by drop. Hotter than his heart, hotter than his head.

That blood was his own.

That blood was fuel.
I'd go for two actions then, ye. Might as well spread the love here. Hard to use my full action set anyhow.
So that's like, one action from Yasu, ya? Short post either way.


They fell with speed, Yasu driving her sword into the Trapeze's body during their swift descent, before allowing the force of the impact to jolt her off its gelatinous form and tear an even greater gash into it. She didn't have time to spend on finishing it of though, not when their suitably dramatic entrance drew the attention of the ringleader itself. The lion-headed man stalked towards her, and she smiled in return, the kaleidoscope of scenarios and appearances splintering in her vision.

There were ringleaders far larger, far strong, far scarier, and far prettier than the one she saw right now. And prodigious size alone did not dissuade the sharpened blade.

Thus, she advanced, dropping low as she dashed for the beast, stagnant air given life in the wake of her swift movements. Emma's shadows and Cam's shapeshifting covered all the performers, so it was up to her to take on the leader. Anticipating the necessity of evasion, the odd-eyed girl adopted serpentine movements as she neared, before finally dropping into a slide as her blade flashed and aimed to slice into the groin of the monstrosity as she slipped between its legs.

A bit unkind? Sure! But in the legendary words of a famed Cleaner: "It's nuts or nothing!"
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