The tension in the air was electric, thick with the imminent threat of violence as Ezekiel's gun remained steadfastly trained on Ajal's head. His finger hovered over the trigger, a sinister promise in his narrowed gaze. The desolate streets of the ruined city, already heavy with the whispers of lost times, now bore witness to this new, dangerous standoff.
Ajal, unfazed by the barrel of the gun mere inches from his face, met Ezekiel's stare with a calm, almost amused, expression. "You know, pointing a gun at someone is not the best way to start a conversation," he remarked, his voice light but edged with an undercurrent of tension.
Jean, still holding back Ajal and Yumiko, hissed under his breath, "Ajal, this is serious. Don't provoke him."
Yumiko, her eyes fixed on Ezekiel, assessed their new adversary with a tactical eye. "He looks like he's been through hell," she muttered, noting the dust and debris clinging to his clothing and the wild look in his eyes.
Arc, standing a little apart from the rest, watched the scene unfold with a steely gaze. Her mind was already racing, calculating the best course of action should things escalate beyond words.
Ezekiel, for his part, seemed to relish the tension he was creating. "A conversation? With the Inheritor of Death?" he scoffed, his grip on the gun unwavering. "I don't think so. My dream hinges on taking you down."
Ajal released a heavy sigh, the sound carrying a mix of weariness and contemplation. "Dreams, huh? Seems like that's the big topic these days," he mused, his voice tinged with a hint of irony, as if he found the concept both intriguing and slightly overdone.
Jean, his patience thinning, shot a warning glance at Ajal. "Ajal..." he cautioned, his voice a tightrope of frustration and concern, aware that any misstep in this delicate situation could escalate tensions further.
Unperturbed, Ajal responded with a casual shrug, his demeanor relaxed despite the gun pointed at him. "Well, while you're here, you wouldn't happen to know anything about our missing teammate, would you?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, probing Ezekiel for any sign of deception or knowledge.
Ezekiel, maintaining his menacing stance, shook his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Ajal. "No, I've been flying solo since the start of round one," he stated bluntly. "For all I care, the rest of Team Z could be out cold somewhere."
Jean's eyes narrowed at the mention of their team name, a spark of realization flickering in his gaze. "Wait, Team Z?" he echoed, his suspicion evident.
"Yeah, what about it?" Ezekiel retorted, his voice steady, the gun in his hand a constant threat.
It was Yumiko who reacted first to the revelation, her laughter ringing out, unrestrained and boisterous, cutting through the tension like a knife. The sound seemed out of place in the desolate surroundings, yet it underscored the absurdity of the moment.
In response to the unfolding conversation, Ajal calmly lowered his right sleeve, revealing the Z emblem emblazoned on his arm. The symbol, a mark of their team identity, stood out starkly against the fabric, a silent declaration of their allegiance and unity.
As Ezekiel's frustration became evident, the tension in the air started to dissipate. The gun in his hand lowered, the threat it posed diminishing with every inch it dropped. "You gotta be kidding me," he muttered, a mix of irritation and disbelief coloring his tone. "All that effort, all that preparation, and it turns out you're on my team? Can't I catch a break?" His voice was tinged with a weary resignation, and his shoulders sagged slightly, as if the weight of his realization was physically bearing down on him.
Jean exhaled a sigh of relief, the danger of the moment ebbing away. "So, we've finally found our last teammate," he said, a wry smile touching his lips. "Even if he's another violent psycho."
Arc stepped forward, her approach measured and calm, as she addressed Ezekiel directly. "Ezekiel, was it?" she began, her voice firm yet devoid of hostility. "Whatever your intentions were towards Ajal, they'll have to be put aside for now."
"Obviously," Ezekiel shot back, his tone laced with sarcasm but devoid of any real animosity.
"I'm glad you're sensible enough to see that," Arc continued. "You came from the southwest, correct?"
Ezekiel nodded, his expression turning more serious. "Yeah, that's right. I was at the keystone in the subway system. Got launched out of there by some Drapabarn."
Without waiting for further discussion, Ezekiel turned and started walking back in the direction he had come, retracing the path of destruction left by his forceful arrival. His strides were purposeful, as if he was eager to confront whatever had bested him before.
Yumiko, watching Ezekiel’s retreating figure with a hint of amusement, called out, "Not gonna join us?"
Ezekiel, without breaking his stride, shot back over his shoulder, "Doesn't really matter what either of us do, right? We all earn points for each other's contributions. So, splitting up is our most efficient strategy."
"Makes sense," Ajal chimed in, nodding in agreement with Ezekiel's logic. His relaxed demeanor suggested he was comfortable with whichever strategy they chose.
Jean, however, raised a counterpoint, his brow furrowed in concern. "We should be cautious about getting isolated," he cautioned. "The other teams are likely sticking together. Engaging in a fight where we're outnumbered is a risky move. Remember, Ezekiel, you were sent flying by just one member of that Drapabarn's team. Now imagine facing all of them at once."
Ajal nodded, considering Jean's argument. "That also makes sense," he conceded, showing a willingness to see the merit in a more cautious approach.
Ezekiel, clearly annoyed by the back-and-forth but also recognizing the validity of their points, groaned loudly. He reluctantly turned back toward the group, making a conscious effort to avoid eye contact. "Fine! Having the inheritor should be enough," he grumbled, reaching out to grab Ajal's arm. "The rest of you can do whatever you want."
Ajal, seemingly unfazed by being abruptly hauled away, allowed himself to be dragged, his feet scraping against the ground in a comical display of compliance.
Yumiko couldn't help but giggle at the sight of the two, her laughter lightening the mood.
Jean, more relieved than amused, attempted to keep the group focused on the task at hand. "Okay then. Let's proceed carefully from here on," he ordered.
As a group, they began moving steadily through the ruined city, wary of possible ambushes.
Jean's voice broke the silence that had settled over the group, his curiosity piqued by a sudden idea. "Hey, Arc," he called out, trailing slightly behind.
"Yes, Master Jean?" Arc responded, her tone neutral but attentive.
"What do you think about this invention idea—a throwable weapon that comes back to you!"
Arc exhaled a patient sigh. "That would be a boomerang, Master Jean."
"Yeah, but boomerangs are totally outdated and look weird, in my professional opinion."
Arc shook her head slightly. "The unique shape of a boomerang is what allows it to return to its wielder. I doubt a similar effect can be recreated using conventional methods."
"For a normal person, maybe. But you're talking to the future greatest inventor ever!" Jean's voice was filled with a mix of pride and excitement.
Ezekiel, clearly irritated by their banter, interjected sharply. "Would you two shut up!"
Yumiko, amused by the interaction, teased Ezekiel. "No need to be all grumpy."
Ajal, still being dragged along, joined in. "So, Zeke, what's your beef with me? The last guy had this noble goal of becoming strong. What about you? Got a deep reason, or are you just weird?"
"Don't call me Zeke," Ezekiel snapped, his tone icy. "And telling you would be a waste of time. Focus on the task ahead."
"But just walking in silence is so dull!" he groaned.
"You're not even walking!" Ezekiel retorted. "Look, if we pass this test, we'll likely be made a unit on campus. I'll share my story then."
Seizing the opportunity, Ajal slipped from Ezekiel's grip and joined the rest of the group in walking. "Well, now I'm excited! Onwards, team! To the subway station!" he declared, enthusiasm evident in his voice as he led the way.
Ezekiel grumbled under his breath, "This is annoying," his frustration barely concealed,
Arc's sharp warning was just the precursor to chaos. "Please stop!" she cried out, her voice cutting through the stillness with urgency.
Ajal, momentarily puzzled, turned towards her. "What's wrong, Arc?" he queried, his alertness immediately piqued.
"Something's coming right at you, Ajal!" The warning barely left Arc's lips before the threat made itself manifest.
From around the bend of a dilapidated building, a white cloth, moving with supernatural speed and precision, shot out towards them. It twisted and turned, snaking through the air with a mind of its own before it ensnared Ajal. The cloth wrapped around him tightly, without giving him a chance to evade or react, and then began its relentless pull back towards its origin. Ajal was dragged with such force that he was swept off his feet, rounding corners and barreling through piles of debris as if he were no more substantial than a leaf caught in a storm.
The rest of the team, spurred into action by the sudden abduction of their teammate, attempted to give chase. Their determination, however, was quickly tested as a new danger presented itself. From the shadows and hidden vantages of the ruined cityscape, a barrage of arrows rained down upon them. The arrows, each one whistling menacingly through the air, created a deadly hail that forced the team to seek cover, halting their pursuit.
Ducking behind the remnants of a crumbled wall, the team assessed their situation. The arrows, seemingly endless, pinned them down, creating an impasse. Each member of the team was acutely aware that this was no random attack; it was coordinated and targeted, meant to isolate Ajal and hinder any rescue efforts.
Ezekiel's frustration boiled over, his voice laced with incredulity. "She could sense us from this far out?!" The disbelief in his tone underscored the severity of their predicament.
"She?" Jean, crouched beside him and, using his arms as a makeshift shield, sought clarification through the chaos.
"That cloth thing, it's from the Drapabarn," Ezekiel explained, his voice tight with tension. "She had them wrapped around her arms and chest."
Arc, sitting thoughtfully next to Jean, broke her silence with a decisive tone. "Our first course of action should be to stop these arrows." Her strategic mind was already formulating a plan amidst the turmoil.
Yumiko, seemingly unfazed by the danger as she took cover behind the corner of a crumbled building, nodded in agreement. "Ajal can handle himself for now," she said confidently, her focus sharp.
"Master Jean," Arc turned to him, signaling that it was time to put their plan into action.
Jean, already a step ahead, responded without hesitation. "Already on it." With a practiced motion, he lobbed a small metal ball into the open street. "Zeke, you might want to close your eyes," he warned, just as the ball was intercepted by an incoming arrow.
The impact triggered an instantaneous reaction, the ball exploding into a brilliant, blinding light that engulfed the area. For a precious few seconds, the barrage of arrows halted, the attackers momentarily blinded or distracted by the sudden illumination.
Seizing the momentary lull, Jean issued a command. "OK, now everyone spread out!" His voice cut through the brief silence. "Once we take down the archers, we'll have our window!"
The team sprang into action, each member darting in different directions to confuse their unseen assailants and to flank the source of the arrows. Yumiko, with a ring of her collar, transformed into her hybrid cat form, using her increased agility to move swiftly and quietly through and around buildings. She came to a stop at the corner of a building, peeking into the street to scan her surroundings. Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet broke off and started rising, as if she were the center point of a stone flower blooming upward. As Yumiko regained her balance, she saw that the block she stood on was slowly moving skyward until she was above all the buildings, in clear view.
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The moment she appeared atop the building, an arrow whistled through the air toward her. She deftly dodged, landing gracefully back onto a piece of floating debris. More arrows followed, relentless and precise, forcing her to leap and weave through the barrage. Each arrow missed by mere inches, her movements a blur of precision.
But then, out of nowhere, a hidden arrow emerged, concealed behind the flight path of another. It tore through the air with deadly intent, and this time, she had no chance to evade.
Just as the arrow was about to strike, a sharp crack echoed through the battlefield—a bullet. It shattered the arrow mid-flight, scattering fragments harmlessly to the ground below.
"Thanks, Zeke!" She shouted before giving a thumbs up along with a smile. "Nice shot!"
Ezekiel's response, although slightly delayed, held a bit of appreciation for the compliment. "Don't expect it to happen again."
Meanwhile, with the bright flash gone, Jean and Arc emerged from the rubble where they took cover. Immediately, they ran towards a narrow alleyway and slid through it. Before them, they found an enormous pile of fallen debris piled up, blocking their way forward, so they leapt toward the other side, and rolled gracefully to reduce the momentum of the fall. After they recovered, they dashed forward again while analyzing everything around her to ensure they weren't surprised again. Soon, after weaving their way around various obstacles, they came to a stop.
"Ajal went this way." Arc said.
"You sure?" Jean responded.
"Affirmative. I tried my best to follow the wrap's path. This is as far as I'm aware. From here on out, we'll be guessing."
As Jean and Arc navigated through the dimly lit alleys and streets of the exam's makeshift arena, their steps were measured and silent. Jean, ever the strategist, kept a mental map of their surroundings, anticipating encounters with other teams and plotting their course with meticulous care.
Arc remained vigilant, her senses attuned to any sign of movement or threat. Despite her formidable physical gifts, she understood that in this exam, brawn needed to be balanced with brains—a harmony embodied in her partnership with Jean.
A sudden shift in the air pressure alerted them to an imminent attack, halting their progress. Jean instantly analyzed the situation, recognizing the trap before them. "Arc, left flank!" he commanded, his voice low but filled with urgency.
Arc didn't hesitate. With a burst of speed that left barely a trace, she moved to intercept the incoming threat—a pair of exam participants from another team, each endowed with Gifts of manipulation, attempting to ensnare Jean and Arc using a combination of elemental control and telekinesis.
Arc's approach was direct and efficient. Utilizing her enhanced strength, she launched herself at the first attacker, delivering a swift, incapacitating strike. The second attacker, surprised by Arc's agility, barely had time to react before Arc followed up by swinging her body around, landing a swift kick to the stomach. Jean deployed a smoke bomb he had been saving. The area quickly filled with a dense fog, obscuring vision and creating the perfect cover for a strategic retreat.
"Follow me," Jean whispered, having already mapped out an escape route in his mind. Arc nodded, trusting Jean's judgment implicitly. They moved through the smoke with practiced ease, Jean leading them through a series of narrow passages he had memorized earlier.
Once they had put a safe distance between themselves and their pursuers, they slowed, allowing themselves a moment to regroup. "We can't keep running," Jean stated, his mind racing through their options. "We need to find Ajal, but we also have to be aware of the rest of the test. Let's use our strengths to our advantage."
Arc agreed, her eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of Ajal or the next challenge. "Your plans, my execution. We'll make our way to the central plaza. It's a key location, and if I were designing this exam, it's where I'd put a major clue or obstacle and with any luck, the subway will be near."
Jean nodded, impressed with Arc's insight. They proceeded with renewed purpose, Jean devising a route that minimized their exposure while maximizing their ability to gather information.
As Jean and Arc neared the central plaza, the cacophony of combat filled the air, a clear sign they were approaching a significant challenge. The plaza, traditionally a gathering place for celebrations and ceremonies, had been transformed into a battleground for the exam, its open space now a stage for a test of skill, intellect, and teamwork.
Upon entering the plaza, they were met with a sight that neither had expected. In the center stood an enormous construct, a mechanical behemoth that towered over the participants. Its gears and pistons hissed with steam and power, and its eyes glowed with an eerie, artificial intelligence. The challenge was clear: teams must either disable the construct or outmaneuver it to reach the other side of the plaza.
Jean's mind raced, quickly analyzing the construct's design and movements. "It's controlled by a central core," he deduced, noting the way the construct's eyes scanned the area and directed its actions. "We need to disrupt its core to disable it, but direct confrontation is too risky, its metal is made of Lumithril, nothing you do will harm it."
Arc nodded, understanding Jean's plan. "Create a diversion. I'll use my speed to circle around and find a way inside its defense perimeter."
Jean surveyed the plaza, spotting a series of abandoned structures and debris. "I'll draw its attention. Use the debris as cover," he instructed, formulating a plan that utilized the environment to their advantage.
Jean inhaled deeply, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead. With a deliberate step, he emerged from his hiding spot, drawing the attention of the formidable construct. The mechanical behemoth, a marvel of engineering and magic, shifted its gaze towards him, its numerous limbs emitting a low, ominous whir as they moved into attack position.
Jean, well aware of the construct's capabilities, relied on his agility and quick thinking to stay one step ahead. He tossed a smoke bomb to his left, creating a thick cloud of obscurity, and used the momentary distraction to sprint to a nearby pile of rubble. The construct, momentarily confused, scanned the area, its sensors trying to pierce through the smoke.
Seizing the opportunity, Jean threw another smoke bomb to his right, further disorienting the construct. He then dashed to another cover spot, his movements fluid and precise. The construct, now forced to divide its attention between multiple potential threats, hesitated, its mechanical limbs moving in a frenzied, less coordinated manner.
While Jean engaged the construct head-on, Arc maneuvered through the battlefield with a different approach. She moved with a grace and precision that belied the ferocity of her intent, her figure almost a blur as she darted between cover and debris.
Her destination was the construct's flank, a position she reached with surprising ease, thanks to the chaos Jean had orchestrated. The mechanical colossus, preoccupied with its frontal assault, failed to notice the swift warrior approaching from the side.
Arc's eyes, sharp and calculating, quickly scanned the construct's exterior, searching for a weakness. She found it in a panel that appeared less armored than the rest, a potential Achilles' heel in the otherwise formidable defense. With a focused determination, she channeled her strength into her limbs, her muscles coiling like springs before releasing in a burst of power.
Her fists became a blur as she delivered a series of targeted strikes, each one precise and forceful. The metal panel, designed to withstand attacks, buckled under the onslaught, the sounds of her impacts echoing through the battlefield. With each hit, the armor gave way, revealing the vulnerable inner workings of the machine.
The construct was not without its limitations. Sensing the breach in its defenses, it attempted to realign its protective measures to counter Arc's assault. However, Jean's relentless diversion had pushed the construct's adaptive capabilities to their limits. The machine, overwhelmed by the dual threat, struggled to maintain its focus and defenses.
Arc, ever the opportunist, wasted no time in exploiting the opening she had painstakingly created. Her keen eyes quickly located the construct's core, a glowing orb nestled within its mechanical innards, pulsating with the energy that powered the entire structure. It was the heart of the beast, the source of its strength and, ultimately, its vulnerability.
With a deep breath and a focused gaze, Arc readied herself for the decisive blow. She channeled all her strength into her fist, her muscles tensing with the anticipation of impact. Then, with a swift, precise motion, she struck the core with all her might.
The effect was immediate. The core, disrupted by the force of her blow, faltered in its pulsations and the construct's movements, once fluid and menacing, began to stutter and falter. Its mechanical limbs, deprived of the energy that animated them, moved in jerky, uncoordinated motions before coming to a complete stop. The once-bright lights that adorned its frame dimmed and then went out, signaling the machine's shutdown.
Arc stepped back, her chest heaving with exertion, as she watched the construct power down. The battlefield, filled with the echoes of their confrontation, fell silent as the mechanical giant slumped, defeated. Jean, ceasing his diversionary tactics, joined Arc's side, a look of admiration and relief on his face. Together, they had triumphed over the formidable construct, a testament to their skill, teamwork, and determination.
The plaza fell silent, the immediate threat neutralized. Jean and Arc shared a look of mutual respect and relief, their combined efforts having overcome a formidable obstacle.
With the mechanical behemoth now silent and inert behind them, Jean and Arc continued their search for Ajal, their resolve unshaken. The central plaza, once a cacophony of combat and strategy, now served as a silent testament to their success. Yet, their mission was far from over.
As they skirted the edges of the plaza, Jean's keen observational skills led them to an overlooked detail: an entrance to the city's old subway system, partially concealed by debris and shadow. Recalling the fleeting sensation he felt earlier—an inexplicable pull towards this direction—Jean was now certain this was where they needed to go.
"The subway," Jean murmured, pointing out the entrance to Arc. "That's where the keystone is."
Arc nodded. "I feel multiple powerful presences down there. One feels similar to Ajal." her senses were on high alert as they approached the entrance. The air grew cooler and mustier as they descended into the depths of the subway, the darkness enveloping them like a thick cloak. Yet they pressed on, guided by Jean's tactical light and Arc's unyielding courage.
Deep within the subway's labyrinthine tunnels, they encountered her—the Drapabarn. In the dim corridor of the subway's underground maze, she loomed tall and formidable, her presence a stark contrast to the shadows that cloaked the area. Her physique was impressive, every curve and angle speaking to a life dedicated to the art of combat.
Her skin was adorned with scales as white as alabaster, providing a natural armor that seemed to capture the scarce light, giving her a ghostly luminescence. The scales, meticulously overlapping like the expertly forged chain mail of ancient warriors, encased her form from her broad shoulders to the tips of her powerful legs.
The skull of a fearsome beast served as a daunting helmet, cradling her head and lending an air of the primeval to her appearance. Though the eye sockets were deep and empty, her own eyes gleamed from within, a fiery red that cut through the darkness with an intensity that was almost palpable.
Bare from the waist up except for the crimson red bandages that wound tightly around her forearms and chest, she presented a visage of both vulnerability and unyielding strength. These bandages, contrasting sharply with the pale hue of her scales, spoke of practicality and a no-nonsense approach to her attire.
Her lower half was clad in pants that bore the scars of many a fray, the fabric torn in places to reveal the resilient scales beneath. The pants hugged her muscular form, tapering down to where they met with a pair of stark black boots—unadorned but clearly chosen for their durability.
Behind her, her tail—a continuation of her scaled armor—swept back and forth with a quiet power, the white scales catching the light as it moved. Here, in the bowels of the city, she stood a silent sentinel, her entire being a testament to the battles she had faced and the strength she possessed.
Jean and Arc regarded her with cautious curiosity as they entered the subway station. In response, she regarded them with the barest hint of amusement in her eyes.
Jean surveyed the room and noticed the large structure behind the Drapabarn: The Keystone. It stood solemnly in the dim light of the subway tunnel, a monolith of ancient design. It was a formidable structure, carved from a stone that seemed to absorb the scant light, giving it an almost ethereal presence. The stone itself was a deep gray, veined with shimmering flecks that caught the light with every flicker of the distant, sparse bulbs.
Roughly hewn, the Keystone bore the marks of artisan hands—symbols and inscriptions etched into its surface, the meanings of which were lost to time. These carvings glowed faintly with an internal light, a pulsating energy that hinted at the Keystone's dormant power. The artifact was not simply placed; it was anchored into the very ground of the tunnel, as if its roots delved deep into the earth below.
The top of the Keystone was a flat, horizontal plane, and at its center lay a shallow basin. Within this basin resided a crystal, clear as the purest water, cradled by the stone and seemingly nourished by its power. This crystal was the heart of the Keystone, the source of its potential, and it radiated a soft light that ebbed and flowed like the gentle breathing of a slumbering beast.
Standing before it, one could feel a subtle vibration, a whisper of the Keystone's latent energy that stirred the air and teased the senses.
Above the ancient Keystone, a holographic display flickered into existence, the numbers 20:00 emblazoned in a stark, digital font. The countdown, with its cool blue digits, seemed almost out of place above the relic, a futuristic beacon atop an artifact of bygone times. The numbers began to descend with the inexorability of time itself, each minute and second ticking down with a quiet, electronic beep that echoed off the tunnel walls.
The glow from the hologram cast an otherworldly light on the surface of the Keystone, causing the age-old carvings to dance in the shadows. It highlighted the crystal nestled within the Keystone's heart, which seemed to throb in response to the countdown's rhythm.
This digital timer counted backwards with a precision that belied the ancient energy surrounding the Keystone, a juxtaposition of eras and energies that filled the space with a sense of impending significance. The 20-minute mark set the stage for a race against time, where every second counted down to an unknown fate.
Jean advanced cautiously, his eyes locked on the Drapabarn, then flicking to the keystone and back again. The weight of the moment settled on his shoulders; here was the creature they had been warned of, yet their mission remained clear.
"We're looking for our teammate, Ajal," Jean announced, his voice steady despite the tension that hung between them like a tangible shroud. "We know you took him with those bandages of yours, so can you just tell us where he is?" His inquiry cut through the silence of the tunnels, an earnest plea among the echoes of their own footsteps. He held his breath, waiting for any sign, any information that might reunite them with their missing companion.
The Drapabarn stood unmoved, her expression unreadable. She took a measured step toward them, her eyes flashing with a glint of interest, if not amusement. She took stock of Jean and Arc, evaluating them with the experience and knowledge of a seasoned warrior.
"Your teammate?" She raised her chin, her voice a feminine and silken tone that belied her fierce presence. "Outside a few nobodies, you are the first people to come in here. I ain't drag anyone." The words rolled from her tongue, rich with the accent and cadence of the outer islands.
Jean and Arc exchanged glances, their confusion growing as they pondered the Drapabarn's response. If not her, then who or what had taken Ajal? The answer eluded them, stirring a creeping dread in their thoughts.
"I believe she is telling the truth, Master Jean. That presence that is familiar to Ajal is emanating from her." Arc surmised, her senses trained on the woman before them.
Jean nodded in understanding. "And the other presence?"
"It's gone. My assumption is they ran."
Inhaling through his nose, Jean mulled over what Arc had told him. He turned his attention back to the Drapabarn and re-evaluated her stance. As the Drapabarn looked on, his analytical nature kicked in, and Jean assessed the possibilities.
The Drapabarn hadn't attacked them outright, which indicated a lack of hostility. However, she did appear to be guarding the keystone.
"So, you two gonna fight or what?" The Drapabarn said. Her posture relaxed slightly, her tail swaying with an almost bored nonchalance.
With his mind whirling, Jean glanced to his side, meeting Arc's determined gaze. His hand found her wrist, squeezing it once to signal their strategy. Arc gave an imperceptible nod, acknowledging his touch and the message behind it.
With the understanding of their plan sealed, Jean addressed the Drapabarn once more. "Listen, we don't want to fight. Just let us pass, alright?"
The Drapabarn scoffed, crossing her arms with a large, toothy smile then spreading across her face, revealing an array of sharp teeth that gleamed ominously even in the dim light. The smile was not one of mirth but rather a show of intimidation and challenge. Her red eyes, alight with a fiery glow, held a predatory gleam, as if she was amused by the situation, finding some hidden humor in the tension that gripped the others. In this moment, the Drapabarn's formidable presence was magnified, the dangerous smile a stark reminder to all present that she was a creature not to be underestimated.