>>6285800
The contenders scream, panic unexpectedly settling amongst their ranks. The missile sails across the sands, aimed perfectly for collision with your group. Just when it looks as though several of your rivals are about to be flattened, the missile suddenly explodes into thousands of harmless pieces that rain down upon the group. Gyles Domnic lowers his hand, magical energy practically steaming off it. The spell he’d used somehow evaded your eyes, but the effect was plain to see.

“Fuck! That was close!” Oleg stutters. He turns towards Reza, who watches the scene dispassionately. “Are you kidding me, man? How are we supposed to get to the tower in an hour? There’s hundreds of them out there! And they’ve got siege weapons too and who knows what else! Are you just trying to get us all killed?!”

“They are prisoners of Morfis.” Reza repeats. “The whole horde of them are villainous scum. If you are to rule this land, such filth cannot be allowed to slow you down. Heed my words, the Competition has officially begun, and the clock is now ticking! Those of you with the strength to persevere, I look forward to seeing you within the Tower!”

Reza vanishes at that moment, leaving the group to their own devices. The weight of his words sets in. Time was slowly running out. You had to push forward, through that screaming throng of enemies that sought to stop you. Already, the nearest ballista was reloading, aiming to fire once more.

“We need to work together!” A man shouts. He pushes ahead of the group, raising a sharp-looking glaive above his head as a rallying point. He wears expertly crafted white armor; and sports a look of confidence that betrays the current circumstance. At his side, two men in robes flank him, looking more like priests than warriors. “There’s no way to win this stage of the contest alone! There are far too many enemies to allow that! Only by working together can we ensure we make it to the next round!”

Before the ballista can fire again, a crack of thunder slams into the foremost fortification. The ballista, along with much of the building, are destroyed in a massive explosion that sends men screaming across the desert sands. That was a Bolting spell, and it came from none other than Leonora. You reckon that with a wave of her hand, she not only eliminated the threat of the first ballista, but also killed a good two dozen men.

“Why should we trust you?” A contender asks the glaive wielder. “How do I know you won’t just stab us in the back as soon as we get to the tower?!”

“My friend, I am Oswald Martyn.” The man answers in response.” I am a tactician in Fodlan’s Central Army. The blood of Adrestian Knights flows through my veins. On that honor, you have my word that neither me nor my allies here intend to betray you! We can save the animosity for the later rounds of the contest, but for now, we all share a common enemy!”