The directions to today’s lesson were significantly more difficult than usual. Rather than the Valley’s geometry shifting to shorten the journey, it was a four mile hike to an elevated forest. After Keria reaches the top, slightly sweaty, but extremely used to heat, she walks into the forest, taking in the scenery around her. There’s no sign of any of her instructors, but there is an obvious trail dragging through the underbrush. "Huh." She follows it into the forest. The trail continues deep into the mountainous forest, gradually diminishing until it becomes only small signs of someone’s passing. It twists and winds through the terrain, until it seemingly doubles back onto a much clearer trail. Something feels familiar… "The river again!" She starts sprinting down the trail, trying to make up for lost time. You eventually stumble upon the small, tumbling waterfall you worked at before. The drawing materials still sit atop the ridge, though no one else takes presence within the clearing. She walks up to the drawing materials, curious. Something is written in neat yet very small runes on the edge of a paper, ‘Think fast.’ From behind, there is a sound of a single footstep and a rush of air. She tries to duck, and spin around. The most immediately captivating sight is that of a short, crescent blade, sailing through the air. "Hm. This might be fun." She stays in a ready position, bent knees, and ready to run. The blade falls over her head, but her opponent, masked in carved wood, follows through with a second weapon. She tries to dodge again, and takes the shards of Challenger's Mark off of her back, hoping she can do something with them. Something within the shards activate, and the assailant’s offhand weapon is pulverized. Fortunately, the enchantments retained well enough to leave Ikeriabelle’s hand unharmed. Not letting up, the attacker continues his assault in a strange, melodic sword form. Only one opening seems to exist—that created by the loss of his other weapon. She tries to use some lava as a temporary fix for the shards, and attempts a block against one of his attacks. She blocks successfully, though the assailant forces her guard a little closer. Any longer and he’ll have her vulnerable; she needs to attack. She decides to feint, and spontaneously explode into flames, emitting large clouds of smoke, then she tries to climb into a tree, and jump down on the assailant. The smoke is expelled as she falls, giving way too late for the man to react. What happens next is... unbelievably convenient. There is a spray of silver ichor and the man steps back. His metallic blood drips from one of the shards of the Challenger’s Mark, and his entire arm has been severed cleanly at the shoulder. The severed limb begins forming into the foliage in which it lays, reconstructing into roots and leaves. She pauses for now, wondering if it was enough. The assailant moves as if to clap, then realizes his arm is missing. A muffled voice comes from behind the mask—Luck, most likely. “Good job! Of course, I could obviously see through the smoke, but most people wouldn’t.” "Thank you Luck. I guess I could say I had you." She laughs merrily. He chuckles, and the open wound of his shoulder begins wrapping over in small roots, until it is cleanly closed. Luck steps back three paces and twirls his blade in his grip. “Now, try to trick me for real. I won’t be attacking; your goal is to land a critical blow on me by any means necessary.” "Hm." She decides to sink into the ground, and several mole like furrows appear, each one is exactly alike in function, and there are four of them, going every which way. Luck only taps his foot, causing a force like a drum beat to reverberate through the ground beneath. All four tunnels shake, and rise up slightly. One tunnel veers towards Luck suddenly, ripping through the ground. As the tunnel approaches, he rams his sword into the ground, cutting it off. The tunnel shrivels, and rises, it is a cylinder of now hardened lava, with his sword piercing it. Another tunnel rushes him. Luck sets a hand on the cylinder and the cooling process begins to undo itself. He soon frees his weapon and steps away from the crossing paths of the tunnels. “Come now, all warfare is based on deception. Deceive!” An explosion sounds behind Luck. Keria jumps from a tree behind Luck and swings Challenger's at his head. The mentor doesn’t even look behind. She taps Luck on the shoulder, "Uh..?" Luck bends his knees just enough to duck the blow without a haircut, and pushes off one foot to step away in two long, backward strides. “I’m not blind and deaf, Ikeriabelle, at least not until you render me so.” "Huh. Good point." Keria stomps, and ice starts radiating from the impact, forming into shapes and figures, a memory of hers. Ice forms walls, and other things, upholstery, furniture, flames in a fireplace. Keria disappears, and Luck is left in the sitting room, a frozen window to a time long gone. Luck extends his senses to a world of doubles, feeling both illusion and reality in tandem. He feels for the patterns of the space around himself—and waits. He feels no illusion, only the cold, unending ice reproduction of the past. Luck finds a chair nearby and sits. A console of ice rises nearby, with a blue button on it. He examines the console for a moment, deliberating. “Well...” he says, reaching to press the button. The house explodes into a mushroom cloud, flames roaring and the heat blazing. As the cloud clears, it gives way to the image of Luck—damaged, singed and laughing his ass off. “Well, it wasn’t exactly subtle, but damn if it wasn’t entertaining.” Keria is sitting on an icy chair outside of the blast mark. “Why thank you. I pride myself on my entertainment value.” She grins mischievously. “Your ice is getting better, though that part was clearly cast from a subconscious level.” “Yep.” She nods “Now what?” “Now, you have the pleasant task of trying to find my arm. It’s buried somewhere in the woods. I assure you it is no more than three feet underground. Good Luck.” END RECORDING.