Everyone started running. Their muscles ached and their bodies screamed. It did not matter what was the nature of their current self.
Faster everyone began to move, deploying methods that could be seen as secret. Some gilded through the wind. Others used the collapsing rocks as a foothold, sending themselves from one foothold to the next.
Movement techniques, Class Skills, Bloodline lineage, they didn't spare anything to survive. The luckiest of these bunch were those who could fly and soar through the skies. Some who had no luck fell into the abyss despite being prospects thought to win it all.
Yet, even then, everyone gave it their all, as they headed deeper into the Battlefield, hopping from one Island to the next. They all wanted to survive and reach the next round but the irony of it all was that they were running closer to an even deadlier fate.