An hour passed, the test continuing as more students forged ahead into the depths of the dungeon along their own paths—each one diverging like capillaries through a living labyrinth. Somewhere amidst the intertwining routes, the occasional scream echoed, quickly silenced, followed by faint pulses of light. Trearch, as inscrutable as ever, made his judgments without ceremony, failing students as he deemed necessary.
And Marcus and Cynthia? Well—at this point, only one of them could be said to be conscious.
Cynthia carried on, resolute and silent, while Marcus remained completely unconscious—his body drifting behind her like a broken doll held aloft by threads of magic.
…
…
One hour ago…
…
"Looks like you're completely out of commission for now…" Cynthia murmured, kneeling beside Marcus, her voice tender as her fingers brushed across his cheek.
