Jorel, Jain, and Ryen pushed forward, their bodies aching from the relentless trials of the maze. As they made their way through the narrow corridor, the faint sounds of battle reached their ears—a clash of steel, the crackle of pain magic, and the shouts of students locked in combat. The trio exchanged tense glances, their pace quickening as they realized they weren't the only ones facing the final trial.
The corridor opened into a vast chamber, illuminated by a cold, bluish light that emanated from the walls, casting eerie shadows across the floor. The chamber was dominated by a massive stone platform in the center, where a chaotic battle was already underway.
Students from Falcon, Raven, and Eagle houses clashed in a fierce melee, their bodies moving in a blur of pain magic and raw physical skill. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, and the floor was littered with debris from shattered weapons and fallen students.
Jorel's eyes quickly scanned the battlefield, taking in the situation. A large group of Eagle house students, outnumbering the other two groups, had taken control of the platform. They were trying to overwhelm the smaller groups of Falcons and Ravens, who were struggling to hold their ground.
"We're not alone," Jain murmured, her voice tinged with both relief and worry. "But it looks like the Eagles have the upper hand."
Ryen nodded, his gaze hardening as he took in the scene. "It's a numbers game. The Eagles have strength in numbers, not in raw power. We can use that against them."
Jorel's mind raced, formulating a plan. They couldn't just charge in recklessly—if they did, they'd be overwhelmed in seconds. But if they could disrupt the Eagles' strategy, they might be able to turn the tide.
"Jain, Ryen," Jorel said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to create chaos, break their formation. If we can force them to split their focus, we might have a chance."
Jain nodded, her eyes sharp and focused. "I'll target the flanks, draw some of them away. Ryen, you create a distraction—something big, something they can't ignore."
Ryen grinned, already running to the nearby group of Raven's. "Leave it to me."
With their plan in place, the trio moved swiftly. Jain darted to the left, circling around the edge of the chamber to position herself near the Eagle house students on the flanks. Ryen darted around the battle fields, gathering forces to make a large head-on attack that would draw the Eagles' attention.
Jorel, meanwhile, advanced cautiously toward the platform, his eyes locked on the center of the Eagle formation. He could see their leader, a tall, broad-shouldered boy named Horace, directing his comrades with sharp, precise commands. Horace wasn't as strong as Drain, but he had a cunning mind and the loyalty of his housemates. That made him dangerous.
As Jorel approached, he noticed something unusual about the Eagle house students. Unlike Drain, who had relied on the overwhelming power of neuropathic pain, these students used a more insidious form of pain magic—nociplastic pain. Their attacks were slower, more methodical, designed to wear down their opponents over time rather than overpower them in a single blow.
Nociplastic pain was tied to persistent, chronic pain—pain that didn't have a clear source but was felt deeply in the muscles, bones, and joints. It was harder to resist because it was subtle, creeping up on you until it became unbearable.
Jorel watched as one of the Eagles, a wiry boy with a twisted grin, touched his opponent, a Falcon girl, on the arm. The effect was immediate—her muscles seized up, her face contorted in pain as if her bones were grinding against each other. She staggered back, her defenses crumbling as the nociplastic pain sapped her strength.
Another Eagle, a girl with long, tangled hair, focused her magic on a Raven student, her hands glowing with a sickly green light. The Raven's legs buckled as though they'd been weighted down, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated as he tried to fend off her attacks.
"These Eagles are using nociplastic pain to slow down and cripple their opponents," Jorel thought, his mind racing. "We can't let them get too close, or we'll be at a serious disadvantage."
Ryen, seeing the opportunity, unleashed his plan—a massive rush of students all ducked out of their current fights and switched their focus to the middle of the Eagle formations and exploded through their defenses. The sudden change sent the Eagles reeling, creating a shockwave through their formation and making a moment of chaos as the Eagles scrambled to regroup.
Jain seized the moment, darting in from the flank and striking at the distracted Eagles. Her attacks were quick and precise, aimed at breaking their focus and forcing them to split their attention.
Jorel moved in, his claws forming on his hand as he targeted Horace. The leader of the Eagles was distracted, trying to rally his housemates, and didn't see Jorel coming until it was too late.
Jorel's claw raked across Horace's back, the pain-infused magic slicing through his uniform and into his flesh. Horace let out a shout of pain, stumbling forward as he turned to face his attacker. His eyes burned with fury as he recognized Jorel.
"You!" Horace snarled, his hands glowing with a sickly green light. "You think you can take me down? I'll crush you like the weakling you are!"
He lunged at Jorel, his hands outstretched to grab him. But Jorel was ready. He ducked low, avoiding Horace's grasp, and struck again, aiming for Horace's legs. His claw tore through the fabric, cutting deep into the muscle and sending a jolt of pain through Horace's body.
Horace staggered, his movements becoming sluggish as the pain took its toll. But he wasn't finished yet. With a snarl, he reached into his coat and pulled out a vial, this one filled with a thick, murky liquid. He downed it in one gulp, the effects hitting him almost immediately.
Jorel's eyes widened as he realized what Horace had done. The vial was filled with a concoction designed to amplify nociplastic pain, making it even more potent. Horace's movements became more fluid, his strength returning as the pain in his body was transformed into raw, destructive energy.
But Jorel didn't back down. He knew that he couldn't match Horace in a direct fight, but he didn't need to. He just needed to buy time, keep Horace off-balance while Jain and Ryen dealt with the other Eagles.
As Horace charged at him, Jorel dodged to the side, his mind racing as he formulated a plan. He couldn't let Horace get close—if he did, the nociplastic pain would sap his strength and leave him defenseless. But if he could keep Horace moving, force him to waste energy, then he might be able to turn the tide.
Jain and Ryen were holding their own against the other Eagles, but the sheer number of enemies was overwhelming. They needed to end this quickly, or they'd be worn down by the relentless attacks.
Jorel darted in and out of Horace's reach, striking whenever he saw an opening. Each time, he aimed for the same spots—Horace's legs, his arms, anywhere that would slow him down and weaken his attacks. The nociplastic pain was taking its toll, making each movement more difficult, each breath more labored.
But Horace was relentless. He kept coming, his eyes filled with a burning rage as he swung at Jorel with wild, desperate strikes. His movements were becoming erratic, his attacks less precise, but the raw power behind them was still enough to send Jorel reeling.
Jorel knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. His body was screaming in pain, his muscles aching with every movement. But he couldn't give up—not when they were so close.
As Horace lunged at him again, Jorel saw his chance. He feinted to the left, then spun to the right, his claws aimed at the back of Horace's knee. The strike landed perfectly, the pain-infused magic cutting deep into the joint.
Horace let out a scream of pain, his leg buckling under the force of the attack as blood splattered the ground beneath him. He stumbled forward, his body collapsing to the ground as the pain overwhelmed him.
Jorel didn't waste a second. He darted forward, delivering a final, powerful strike to Horace's side, knocking him unconscious.
With their leader down, the remaining Eagles faltered, their confidence shattered. Jain and Ryen pressed the advantage, leading the drive against the Eagles with a relentless assault from all the other groups.
One by one, the Eagles fell, their bodies crumpling to the ground as the pain magic took its toll. The chamber was filled with the sounds of battle, the clash of steel and the crackle of magic echoing through the air.
Finally, with a last, desperate push, the combined force of the Ravens and Falcons drove the remaining Eagles off the platform, sending them tumbling to the ground below.