Sworded Affair

Ordinarily, the Leech King wouldn't have matched Sir Bearington in speed. On a largely friction-less surface though, his long, sinuous body excelled. Emma had little to do but hang on for dear life as he began to accelerate, ignoring the icy spears stabbing at him - he would certainly die from them eventually, but not soon enough to matter. As they approached the wall being built by the remaining elementals, the Leech King began to inhale, preparing the very first attack he'd used against Emma at their first meeting. A beam of white-hot plasma pierced through the makeshift fortification, leaving a hole just wide enough for them to squeeze through; Emma lying flat on his back to ease the way.

[2x Ice Elemental defeated.

40 EXP gained.]

Helpfully, most of the acid coating Emma had run off by now, meaning this latest round of healing from the dead would actually stick. One elemental survived by dint of being slightly further to the side, but that was fine; the main objective was to make it to the end of the floor, anything else was just a bonus.

"Start showing health notifications again," Emma instructed, now that there was no longer a constant barrage of [-5 Anima] to deal with.

As the shattered wall disappeared behind her, Emma kept herself alert, expecting another obstacle to make itself known shortly. Sure enough, the skies soon signalled their displeasure at her survival; literally, given the fist-sized hail that began to fall from on high.

"Dig," Emma commanded immediately, following her summon underground before she was pummelled into oblivion.

The Leech King continued in the same direction as before, boring through ice as easily as dirt and thankfully large enough that Emma could walk rather than crawl in his wake, the rhythmic thudding of ice hitting the ground audible even twenty feet below the surface. This was far slower a pace compared to what they'd managed above ground, but still faster than the advance of the snow by Emma's remembrance.

[For overcoming an obstacle, 50 EXP gained.]

"This doesn't seem too bad," Emma shrugged. "I was expecting worse after the pamphlet's warning on the last floor. Maybe that was just to get rid of the easily scared?"

"There's an element of that involved, if you'll pardon the pun." The overseer confirmed. "Part and parcel of being a practitioner is the ability to stay calm under pressure; our lifestyle is not for the faint of heart. You see issues arise most often in those studying at the colleges of magic; it's all very well and good, to hone your skills in an enclosed environment, but the downside is producing students who are technically proficient but freeze up in a fight or start vomiting after their first kill. The smart ones make sure to get at least some practical experience, even without a guide, before coming to challenge Scholomance for the first time. As for the rest, well, we have a large collection of lost items to give out for a reason."

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

What would I have gotten, if I'd taken the option for a random lost item? Emma wondered, not really expecting a response to her idle musing.

[Hmm? Let me take a look. Ah, there it is: a canister of Sarin gas manufactured in 1939.]

"Oh," Emma sighed, very happy she hadn't gone for that. "Well that's a bit pointless. What kind of apprentice needs to rely on poison gas?"

"A very poor assassin," The overseer sniffed, similarly unimpressed. "Records show that he was planning to use it on the other members of his trial team, in a bid to emerge from the tenth floor alone and claim all the glory for himself. The body cultivator overheard him plotting before bashing his skull in, and that was that."

"Is there glory in finishing this trial?" Emma squinted at nothing in particular. "I thought this was a standard affair, a magical rite of passage even."

"That's true for an ordinary finish," The overseer agreed. "But those who excel are noticed by the important. Surviving where the others did not would have carried the assumption that he was a cut above his peers; not that it would have worked in this case, given that the overseer of the time would have reported him to law enforcement. Whilst death is a risk understood by any who enter Scholomance, there are still limits, and actively murdering fellow aspirants goes far beyond the line.

Getting back on topic, other noteworthy feats include creative circumvention of trial conditions, much like you're doing now. Most people's first reaction would be to stop, shield and outlast the hail, not dig to keep going. Then, of course, there's the speed record; getting one of the fastest clears is prestigious and can open many opportunities for the aspirant. The fastest ever was a beast-master, incidentally, who came in with a dozen of his pets; between them they had an answer to every problem the tower threw his way."

"He sounds pretty good," Emma admitted, wondering what she could do with that many summons. "What happened to him after clearing the trial?"

"He went to fight the Spanish that same year, in 1585, and took a cannonball to the face." A far younger voice answered in the overseer's place. "A grave miscalculation there: he invested all his power into his pets, but only had the durability of a mortal man in the end."

"Ah," Emma grimaced. "Well, I'm probably out of the running for the record already; not that I'd go for it regardless. The System provides me with all the opportunities I'll need."

"Indeed," The young girl chuckled ruefully. "Reliance upon the matriarch is one of the wiser courses of action, now more than ever really. Hmm, that's not a bad name, don't you think?"

"Matriarch Reliance?" Emma grimaced. "Sounds like a sect leader in some Xianxia drama; I'm not sure it would fit the System's aesthetic."

[It wouldn't; Paradox is just winding you up, so please ignore her. If you must address me by my titles, then Founder is more than sufficient, as is Anathema. As for the unspoken question of my name? You may call me Edith.]