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It was an early start to their morning, a slow one. Without any sunlight rousing them to focus and awareness, and without even Ettamri feeling the need to push any of them to action, the adventurers meandered quietly as the sun began to rose. Renauld found it easy to doze off, the campfire warming his face enough that the mage could forget the rest of his body. Siwon’s rare efforts at actually being useful worked well too, the physical labor pushing the bleariness of lost sleep away while simultaneously warming his body. Soon enough, that yellow bastard was floating around as well, berating him for being a goody two shoes while others sat around, hugged themselves, watched the fire burn, and ate jerky. Why did he have to work, while others did nothing?

The question of the century, truly. Even industrious, affable Oscar hadn’t gotten a fresh kill in the morning yet. It was questionable whether or not the Fiend Knight would be able to perform his daybreak rituals on this day.

Two fleeting hours later, Argen’s pot of snow long boiled, drank, refilled, boiled, and then drank again, the sun rose properly, breaking out over the mountain ranges with dazzling brilliance. Yesterday, thick clouds had dampened the eternal blessings of Alri-Qua, but now, with a clear, crisp sky overhead, First Light shone like a diamond above the snow-capped peaks. The snow storm’s efforts had been laid bare now, a wonderful winterscape untouched by trespasses sparkling underneath the sunlight. It was breathtaking; it was blinding. After the novelty of the beautiful scenery wore off, it became painful to face the direction of the sun, and turning away from the sun didn’t help with the reflection of the snow either. No matter where one looked, one was forced to squint their eyes, unbearable brilliance becoming more detriment than marvel. But the world was warming up at least, very slightly. The night had passed, and danger with it. There was no more snowfall forecast in the horizon, and with such clear weather, they could assuredly make up for the lost ground.

As others rose to make preparations for travel, Katya kneeled, facing the sun with her eyes closed, her head bowed. Held between her tented hands was the hexagram sun that marked one as a Priest of Alri-Qua, and as she breathed, she prayed. Not all rituals required blood, not all rituals required meat. For the Keeper of the Sun, the one who watched the world from the highest pinnacle, twas simply faith and phrase that ought to be directed towards him. In the consecrated flames of the First Light, all else would simply burn away.

“Brightest Keeper, Creator of Flame, Watcher of Light, our blood runs the red of fire, our bodies burn the warmth of light…”

The mantra continued. The sun rose further. The day has broken.

Time to work.


"Puwagh!"

As Siwon began to dig over the ruined hovel, Katya practically exploded out of the mound, showering the Fiend Knight with flakes again. The little priest shook her body like a wet dog, both because everyone knew frenetic activity was the best way to get warmed up, as well as to brush off more loose snow from her body. Didn't do anyone any favors of course, but in the end, she was red-cheeked again, white breath escaping her lips as she looked around. Definitely not day yet, that was for sure. Pouting slightly at the rude awakening, she narrowed her eyes eastward. Dawn had only just turned the sky blue, and the warmth of the sun had yet to touch them yet. She let out another rattled breath, her teeth chattering now. Wrapping a tarp around herself, Katya shuffled onto a log by the fire and promptly plopped herself onto it. Holding her hands against the weak flames that Ettamri coaxed, she kept quiet and still, only occasionally flexing her fingers and readjusting her position.

It was too early in the morning for talk, prayer and food.


Cecilia accepted the friend request, nodding slightly at Apollo's offer. Maybe this can be a weekly thing. Nothing wrong with getting more accustomed to PvP, after all. Monsters were savage, but the more dangerous ones were intelligent. And something something, most dangerous prey. The Lancer chuckled at how her thoughts wandered, before unequipping her weapons once more. She flicked out her Map again, confirmed that it wasn't just a bad joke that the third floor was blacked out, before drawing in a breath.

Jewelry? Check. Fancy clothes? Check. Posture? Check. Light's Bane Cloak? Check.

As the guards thinned out, dispersing to wherever they were positioned, Cecilia confidently strode through the door underneath the stands, nabbing herself a torch while she was at it. Firelight cast strong shadows within the hallways of the Arena, a nostalgic feeling seeping into her bones and sharpening her senses. A dungeon, wasn't it? The cages must have been for captured monsters. She suppressed a grimace; her job may be to kill monsters, but there was a difference between killing them and capturing them to die for entertainment. Nevermind though. Her back straightened further, her breathing steady and shallow, and for a moment, standing beside the doorway of the back of the area, Cecilia closed her eyes, listening for anything that might have been beyond.

1...2...3...4...5...

She didn't hear anything, anything loud enough to concern her. Momentarily, the Lancer considered suffocating her pilfered torch, but that thought too was discarded. Confidence, that's what she needed. There would be less suspicion if she simply strode in as if she belonged. And she did belong. What was an Arena except for a place for adventurers to congregate and mingle through?

With audible footsteps clickclacking against the stone floor, Cecilia strode through the doorway, continuing her delve into the inner recesses of the Arena.
Hahaha, oh god, imagine if he somehow ended up blowing the acid fog into random passerbys.
It was warmer than expected inside Renauld’s snow hovel. With three people fit comfortably inside the small hut at any one time, it had certainly been a usable place to sleep. Body heat expelled from the larger occupants served a great boon to everyone else, and the snow, though packed and hardened, wasn’t nearly as unmalleable as stone. With tarps to keep their backs dry, everyone slept in only mild discomfort as humid air condensed, dampening their clothing. In the morning proper, they’d notice the sogginess of their garments and be doubtlessly displeased, but in the throes of slumber, no one cared.

The night watches too, had been less dangerous than expected. Outside of that moment of excitement in the first watch, every other watch had been relatively safe, relatively quiet. The snowstorm dissuaded all but the hardiest (or stupidest) monsters from raiding the camp, and by the third watch, it was too late at night and too early in the morning for any more attacks. Peaceful, exhausting silence reigned over the place, broken only by the stirring of miserable embers. But such peace never lasted. In the wilderness of Altera, reprieve and repose were temporary, as fleeting as the winds of winter.

It happened when Argen ended his shift, crawling back into the snow hovel to rouse Siwon. There was a slight tremor, the turning of a dreamer, a heavy thump against the walls, and then, quite suddenly, everything came crashing down, the dome of snow losing its shape and burying all those who slept underneath. To call it a rude wake up call would be an understatement: a face full of cold, slushy snow was a terrible way to start the day, made even worse when some of that snow got underneath one’s garments, soaking the body underneath. A quinzhee was a temporary shelter at best, after all. Whether it be rising temperatures, a rowdy occupant, or simply bad luck, it was never meant to last a day, perhaps not even the length of the night.

If there was anything to be grateful for, it was that the majority of occupants inside were strong, adventuring types. Regardless of how sleep-deprived they may have been, none were weak enough to simply suffocate under the mounds of snow, and soon, they all burst out, cold and bleary-eyed, exposed to the thankfully-mild elements. No other shelter had been constructed in case the first fell, and regardless, it was only two hours till sunrise, the clear, cold sky already turning from black to indigo. Whether they tried to snatch some more sleep or did what they could to prepare for a day of marching was up to them; regardless, it wasn’t only Siwon now, who was awake before the rooster crowed.

Ettamri, on the other hand, sleeping in her own little tarp tent, spent her night colder, her sleep occasionally interrupted by sharp hunger pangs and the rattling of the wind against the frozen-stiff cloaks that made up the walls of her own shelter, but when the snow hut collapsed and everyone was roused, the warrior, at least, was unaffected by that bit of misery. Whether or not she chose to rouse herself afterwards was simply her choice.

"Haha, and I hope you remember your words when you're outduelled by a Rider without his mount," Gawain snapped back, his longsword flickering out to meet Diarmuid's. Silver clashed with gold, a steady stream of cuts and parries exchanged between the two knights under the unamused eyes of Gringolet. Divorced from supernatural powers and murderous intent, swordplay was mathematical and predictable, each swing and thrust leading into each other. A duel to protect one's honor spawned unorthodox technique, but a duel for entertainment's sake was simply that: Gawain may show off by switching to his offhand, doing a spinning strike, or bending over backwards for an inordinately inefficient dodge, but both sides were playful, dancing to the music of ringing steel.

"By the way," Gawain said, breaking the silence of several minutes of duelling, "Don't suppose you have a way of turning off your mole, Diarmuid? I think my fellow Heroic Spirits will be fine, but it'd be basically more awkward if the Master ended up falling for you. 'specially if we're gonna be working together n all. Chaldea's got quite a few ladies in it, y'see."

Third place wasn’t the best, especially when she had been so close to getting second place, but Cecilia was satisfied with it. A little more sustainability would have gone a long way in this case, and while she certainly performed well against melee fighters with small weapons, the same couldn’t be said against tanks that could endure her own DPS and chip away over time. She lacked the defenses too to simply ignore the raw damage that mages could output, leaving her vulnerable to DoTs that’d doubtlessly grow only stronger as everyone rose in levels. She could only lifeleech off of normal attacks, but her style encouraged constant usage of low-AC actions. And yet high defenses were more effective in weakening a flurry of blows rather than a singularly powerful strike. Things to consider, for sure. She needed versatility to switch between swift combos and singularly powerful blows, and now, she had homework to do.

The 100 Renn she ‘lost’ was simply the lesson fee for such.

Blinking out of her contemplation, Cecilia grinned lazily at Wrinfell as well, spinning her spear in fanciful circles. “I do pride myself in style over substance, though, alas, such inclinations often ensures that my fangs fall short of reaching heavily armored fellows like you. Good fighting though. The Marauder in my guild only had 200 MP max, so I basically never experienced so many techs firsthand.” Which meant that next time, she’d be prepared.

Though Marauders got hella survivability regardless of how prepared she was. Maybe it was time to purchase a new spell…

“And hey, Apollo, it’s not like I coulda done any better against you considering the situation. You handled yourself disgustingly well for a mage in close combat, and I didn’t even get the drop on you with Light Speed Escape, so I bet you’ll be set once you transition into Battle Mage.” Cecilia laughed. “While the offer’s tempting though, I’d rather you two join Last Genesis. Heaven’s Oath got like, over a thousand players, right? Pretty sure there’s no niche that’s not taken at this point, so how ‘bout you two head on over to my guild instead? We’re hiring for tanks and magical DPS, after all. Please?”

The lilac-haired lancer batted her eyes charmingly, her hands clasped behind her back as she leaned forward towards the two, but there was no serious intent behind it. Simply due respect, for individuals with enough skill to become keystones of any party they joined.

Two more of its brethren came to assist, but the fanged construct proved its worth as a professor's contracted; it had evaded all attempts at capture, and was even retaliating. Adamas turned its gaze briefly towards the snow fairy, a silent warning in its featureless face, before the golem surged into action once more, its methodical movements as deceptively swift as ever.

As the beast leapt up in the air, it was suddenly met by a wall of rock. Nay, no wall, but the hand of a massive construct instead. Stone seemed to spontaneously expand from the golem's already impressive form, Adamas gaining greater mass as the monstrosity rose in height and power. Standing at an impressive ten meters now, it made another grab at the many-eyed monster, disregarding the black substance swung unto it. Acid corroded earthen flesh, but Adamas was not designed to feel anything, and even if it could feel parts of its body turn into dust, it mattered not.

As time passed, the ice would reach its master. As time passed, the mist would reach its master. And as long as she remained its master, Adamas could not allow that.

A second hand swung up to meet the first, prepared to clap the many-eyed beast that stood inbetween.
And there it was, that extraordinary incident.

Even from the rear of the camp, the burning tree was easy enough to spot, its crash thunderous. Immediately, Elodie was on the move, her Blasting Rod in hand as she rushed past the melee of knights and bandits. With so much steel and death around, few paid attention to the brunette that slipped into the camp itself. Keeping quiet and subdued, the artificer kept careful watch over her surroundings as she got closer and closer to the keystone to the bandit's success. That was all that mattered, after all; if what she had witnessed at the rear was any indication, the bandits were wholly worthless against the regular armor without this.

So even if a couple of them escaped, that was within the realm of expertise of regular towns' guards. Only the Bandit King's head had to be taken to consider this a victory.

The acrid stench of smoke grew stronger as she approached. The blazing tree had set surrounding tents ablaze as well, creating a fiery, breath-stealing arena. Few would last long here, but this fight wouldn't last long. Jeremiah had a thick neck, but prodigious size did not dissuade the sharpened blade. Readjusting the goggles over her eyes, Elodie grimaced at the stink, before leveling her weapon unto the bare-chested man.

But Elodie did not fire. Not yet.

Fanilly was the Knight-Captain, after all. She deserved a chance to earn glory before all else.

Late Noon///Floor 3



A jet of mud swamped Oben completely, but all Varanense thought about was how lucky they were that the lizard wasn't a fire-breather. Someone else could get the masked swordsman out; he'd have to continue the onslaught instead. Both eyes were down. His breathing was still under control. Setting the crossbow against the ground, the tanned archer slotted in the next bolt and pulled the string upwards with the entire strength of his body. There was a click, and he kicked up his oversized weapon once more, weaving behind the pillars to get the angle on another vital target.

The monster wasn't moving now. The next will be its sense of smell. Positioning himself in front of the beast, Varanense let out another sharp breath. "Firing!" he called, praying that the others would have the sense to stay still while a projectile shot from behind them.

And then, of course, he did fire. With a powerful whump, the arrow flew for right nostril, and already, he was reloading. It wasn't normal for him to try so hard, but then again, Dahlia was looking rather spartan and might actually allow them to get a couple of broken bones and ruptured organs before stepping in.
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