[b]Dyssia![/b]

Sword. 

It's strange how common these are becoming on this journey, and how at the same time they don't feel new at all. It's like they've always been here, like learning the name of gravity. From all that you were taught you would never have derived the idea that compassion had a cutting edge, but here it is again. For all the strength of biomantic claws and bone your arm has never felt as complete without this sword.

The ruined castle rises up above you. 

The Corpse Empress Hermes-Nero determines to put that thought to the test as she draws another arrow of bone from her fingertips. She is not wasteful - each distal makes one arrow, and the one for each of the middle and proximal fingerbones. By the time she has reached the metacarpal enough of her hand will have regenerated to provide a new source of death. Her promise death is swift and dispassionate and distant, and yet it clearly hurts her even more than her instantly slain victims. An unsustainable method of war, perfect for this Valhalla.

The circle keeps her bound still. The Shogun's eyes gleam from where an arrow pins her against the floor. She has a pistol in her hand and such long experience with death to paint a convincing picture. The strange broken pink vortex where the rest of your companions are trapped in the instant of a falling sword gleams like an opulent jewel amongst the ruined palace. The war rages all around, giant machines making the Skies fall in flaming sheets, not understanding that there are always more Skies besides. All the marvels of all the ages of this terrible future come here to die - except for you and your cavesnake weapon, a sharpened hunk of metal.

Your trial is to close the distance.