"I'm done," Noah gasped, collapsing into the wet dirt as his body convulsed. "No more big guys."
"You did good," Ryan yelled back, loading a fresh magazine into his rifle.
Gaining mana felt really good, Noah had discovered. Feeling the rush of power that filled his veins, elevating a formerly ordinary man with a touch of myth, he thought it better than any drink or drug he'd ever tried. Spending mana, on the other hand, felt like a two footed kick to the family jewels. The first time, at least; the pain steadily reduced with each use, until it was only a faint irritant rather than truly debilitating. The problem now was one of cycling: nothing to do with bicycles, but rather the strain placed upon the mind by repeatedly emptying and refilling the tank, so to speak.
"The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak," Noah murmured, duty compelling him to rise and help clean up the remaining demons, only to find his limbs weak as noodles and utterly unwilling to obey.
"You need to know your limits. Mana exhaustion is not good for your brain and heart; though probably still better than your nine cups of coffee a day."
"Mind lending a hand then?" Noah retorted, unable to rise and properly acknowledged his wife's return.
"That's why I'm here," She sighed. "Would've been out at the start, but I only just managed to get a brief reprieve from playing overseer. Honestly, why did Emma have to run straight into the tower the moment she arrived? No examinations are scheduled for another three months, so the trial mechanisms aren't exactly in the best of shape; there's been plenty of improvisation involved today, I can tell you that much."
"Behind every magical wonder there's a Mechanical Turk!" Ryan guffawed, adding his twopenny to the conversation between three-round bursts.
"Quite," Elizabeth shook her head. "Let me deal with this rabble, then we can talk more freely."
Splaying her left hand, an ornate crystalline bow came into being, a similarly radiant arrow already nocked in place. Drawing back her arm, Elizabeth aimed at the Deadwood Demon furthest back, one that was still out of accurate range and thus not targeted by the rifleman.
Whatever Edith was about to say was interrupted as Emma flew off her seat, rolling to a stop. A quick glance behind her found Sir Bearington's head lodged into the ground; the unwitting victim of a sudden flattening completely at odds with the steep descent of the past month.
"Return," Emma eventually called out, once she finally stopped giggling at her summon's ineffectual attempts to pull his head free.
Looking around, Emma found herself finally free of the icy walls of the ravine for the first time on the floor. Instead, they were in a flat oval; strange sigils were inscribed into the floor, far harder to decipher than any baseball or cricket field she'd even seen before. The transition had been sudden, catching both Emma and her mount (the latter whose eyes never strayed from the path) without any chance to react; making her suspect more spatial magic, albeit more subtle than the previous portals.
"Finally," Emma exhaled, looking beyond the details to the end of the line, where a wooden door stood out like a sore thumb. "Hope dad's still alive when I'm done with these trials; those soldiers weren't the most competent."
[He'll be fine, it's only been one night on the outside.]
Emma opened her mouth to ask how that worked, before deciding this wasn't the best time for an in-depth discussion on time dilation. Resummoning Sir Bearington and ordering him to the sidelines, Emma covered the final stretch towards the exit on foot, relying on the sigils marring the smooth ice to avoid a repeat of her earlier slip-ups. Predictably, the entire patchwork lit up in red and blue as she reached the middle of the oval; around the border of the arena, a dozen spheres of molten rock erupted from the ground, hovering in the sky surrounded by a corona of flame. Directly in front of her, Ice congealed into a single opponent, far larger than the elementals that had harassed her at the beginning of the trial. Merely witnessing its form set Emma's arms a shiver, whilst her eyes drifted closed of their own accord.
[Status condition: Sleep resisted.]
Snapping out of her stupor, Emma backpedalled, until she was close enough to a sphere that its heat dispelled the unnatural cold wracking her frame, as she faced down her final opponent of the floor.
"This could be tricky." Emma groused, as she narrowed her eyes.
[Antipode - Level 14]