Chapter 73 - 72: The end draws near[GTG]
A desolate cityscape stretched before them, a canvas of twisted metal and shattered glass gnawed at by the relentless wind. In its heart, amidst the skeletal remains of skyscrapers, a young girl with purple eyes stalked her prey. Her movements were a predator’s ballet, each step purposeful, fueled by a cold determination that sent shivers down the spine of her victims. Every fallen student left a spectral residue, points siphoned away to replenish the purple-eyed girl’s own dwindled supply.
"Who is she?" whispered the girl beside her, her voice barely a tremor in the ruined city’s silence. Her hair, the color of freshly fallen snow, framed features etched with a mixture of annoyance and morbid curiosity.
"I wasn’t certain before," the purple-eyed girl replied, her voice a steely whisper that cut through the desolate air. "Now, though, there’s no doubt. It’s Leon’s twin." Her hand blurred, a crimson streak as it ripped points from the life force of a student cowering in the wreckage of a building. It had been a place of refuge, at least in theory, but the stench of decay and the sight of scavenged remains told a different story. This twisted game of survival had turned the once managable city into a graveyard, and every corner held the potential for a horrifying discovery.
"Leon’s...?" The blue-eyed girl started, her voice catching in her throat.
"The princess," the other girl confirmed, her expression devoid of emotion. The revelation sent a jolt through the blue-eyed girl, Lyra. "Damn. I guess the rumors were true then," she muttered, a her face face held up in the oppressive heat radiating from the ruined cityscape.
"About her presence at the academy?"
"Yeah, right. But given how the king supposedly treated her, I never thought she’d actually be here."
"Doesn’t matter now," a hiss escaped scarlet’s lips, her name revealed as she spoke. With a flick of her wrist, a spear of water erupted from a nearby puddle, shattering through the window of a ruined house. It found its mark with deadly precision, the head of an unfortunate student hidden in the corner disappearing in a spray of crimson. The metallic tang of blood mingled with the dust-choked air, a grim reminder of the high stakes of this twisted competition.
The clock on the academy trials ticked down, each passing moment amplifying the tension that crackled in the air. Death meant a near-impossible comeback, and with dwindling numbers, paranoia had become a pervasive force. Every rustle in the wind, every creak of twisted metal sounded like approaching footsteps. Everyone was a potential enemy, every shadow a harbinger of doom.