Chapter 69 - The last ones standing

****A recount of the trial's events from Sylvia's POV****

I synchronously direct multiple waves of pureflow to my legs, optimizing my speed. The ensuing outcome is nothing short of frightening. I had already been faster and stronger than my peers, but now, especially compared to those falling behind in pureflow control, I am nothing short of a monster, and I know it. Dust raises behind me as I spring forth towards Feyrin. Before I can reach him, however, he disassembles his throne, and five trainees stand in my path, instruments in hand. At the speed I am going, I could easily force my way through and open a path towards my target, but that would be foolish without knowing what the enemy is capable of. Anticipating some sort of trap, I halt my charge and anchor my feet to the ground, preparing to fend off any incoming danger. 

From the rear, Feyrin releases an arrow from his melo-string. The arrow's color is of a deep crimson and heads towards me at a surprising speed, much faster than a regular arrow should be able to travel. Simultaneously, the trainees under his influence surround me and each perform an attack of their own. Their instruments are raised high in the air, soon to be cutting through my flesh. When the blood eyed man's attack reaches a certain distance from me, blood tendrils sprout from the arrow, threatening to trap me and leave me at his mercy. However, despite all of this, I do not feel an ounce of excitement. 

'How dull'

There is not one trainee whose stance is correct. There is close to no power behind their swings, and a few of them will miss without any interference from me. From the placement of their feet to the grip onto the handle of their instruments, nothing is right. From this attack, I quickly realize that Feyrin's control is not only rather gauche, but also strictly limited to physical domination. He is clearly unable to compel his victims to use their pureflow or their [melody]. It is apparent that without much effort, I could evade every single one of these strikes and head straight towards my opponent, but I decide otherwise. I place both of my hands on the handle of my warchord and shift my stance to the third movement of one of the FullCastle house's two main battle styles. 

'Third Chord: Iron Fortress.'

I send a wave of pureflow to every single part of me, and feel power surging through my being. I am now aware that it is not the optimal way to do it, but it will be more than enough in this situation. I inhale, and spin my entire body 360 degrees, severing anything which stands in my warchord's path. While the style I used against Alden is a complex one where the guiding principle is to make the opponent dance to one's tune, this style is based on a single concept: destruction. Every movement's purpose is to lay waste to your enemy, disregarding defense and aiming to cause as much damage as possible.

As it flies through the air, my warchord cleaves through the trainees, Feyrin's arrow, the blood tendrils, and the air itself. Once I've returned to my original stance, every threat has been dispatched. A fountain of blood sprouts from their bodies, nearly covering me, but as is the rules of this place, it quickly dissipates upon their death. The trainees' bodies vanish as well, and Feyrin leaps further away.

He lets out an impressed wolf whistle. "My, what a monster you are, Lady FullCastle. No mercy for your fellow participants I see."

I flip my hair behind my shoulders. "This was mercy, and you'll follow suit soon enough."

Of course, I would have never gone through with this attack if this was reality, but we are currently in a virtual world. I thought it better to release them from the torment they were being subjected to as soon as possible. Now, nothing stands between Feyrin and I.

"Argh, damnit!" Ivana shouts from the other side of the cave.

Startled, I glance at her. What I see leaves me perplexed. She is currently facing off against a dozen or so other trainees on the other side of the cave. She seems to be at a disadvantage, but that is not what bothers me. 

Even with these numbers, considering that they are nowhere near their full strength, I have no doubts that she will prevail against them. Truth be told, while Ivana's family might not be a great [enlightened] family with a lot of history, their tremendous wealth has allowed them to rise to the top of the social hierarchy and secure their standing besides other great families. As such, she has had a rather famous [enlightened] tutor since young, who has thoroughly instructed her in the art of combat, molding her into a fearsome warrior. She fights by nipping away at the opponent with masterfully placed counters, all the while gracefully evading any attacks headed for her. 

What surprises me is that Ivana's figure is completely dyed in red. I quickly analyze the situation and notice that one of the trainees has managed to lather Ivana in his own blood. From looking at him, I imagine that he severed an artery on his arm, causing a stream of blood to surge out. His complexion is pale, making it clear that he has lost a lot of blood through this act, but he still lives, which prevents it from disappearing. The attackers press onto Ivana, and she fends them off, but I notice that her movements are sluggish, much less refined and precise than what I know she is capable of. I have an inkling as to what is going on.

Confirming my theory, Feyrin explains the situation. "I can tell you've figured it out, and you're exactly right! Once they're under my control, their blood is essentially my blood, and I have full control over it! I wanted to try that technique on you, but you just went and obliterated my toys!"

While Ivana must battle her opponents, she also needs to resist the force exerted on her by Feyrin's blood. Understanding her predicament, I decide to put an end to this. Feyrin isn't skilled enough to parry or even evade a single one of my attacks. Therefore, I adopt the stance of the first move of the FullCastle's destructive battle style. With both hands on the warchord, I place it downwards behind me.

'First Chord: Rising tower."

This move is a rising strike which diagonally cuts through anything in its path. I run towards Feyrin while dragging my warchord through the cold stone. In an instant, I cleave through his chest, not even giving him the chance to raise his guard. I meant to divide his body into two separate parts, but surprisingly, the second my warchord made contact with his skin, he managed to move backwards, avoiding the worst outcome. I notice webs of blood with one end attached to his back and the other to the cave wall behind him. He must have used them to pull himself out of harm's way. Nonetheless, the wound is extremely deep, he stops the bleeding with his [melody], but he knows as well as I that the next attack will end him. 

He raises his hands in the air, imitating a surrender plea. "Alright, I yield, you're still too much for me. Why don't we end this little trial?"

A loud noise resonates through the cave. I turn to Ivana, and every one of Feyrin's victims has snapped their own neck. 

[One of the primary objectives has been reached, less than five participants now remain in the arena, as such, the trial has officially come to an end. The surviving competitors will now be listed in order of performance: Feyrin Windshadow, Sylvia FullCastle, Ivana Rodwell. As there were less than five surviving participants, the next two will be chosen according to performance. The results will be compiled and announced shortly. Congratulations to all of you, please await further instructions once you have exited the immersion pod.]

****A recount of the trial's events from Sylvia's POV****