In the space of a blink, it seemed, Dias - and the others, from what he was able to see in the very brief period between his opening his eyes and his grimace as he flinched back from the sudden, inexplicable sunlight; he'd been straining to watch Sync's form in the darkness and that had done him absolutely no favors upon their arrival here - had been transported to an oddly well-lit, open...arena, the word supplied itself unbidden. It wasn't at all dissimilar from the arena where the Lacour Tournament of Arms was fought; it even had seats for spectators, he noted(once he was able to crack his eyes open again without giving himself a headache), though he didn't focus immediately on the few people sitting there. Come to that, the Sphinx had mentioned a coliseum the night they'd acquired the shield...though Dias had been too wrapped up in chasing Sync to realize they were actually making their way to the place.
It took a moment for Dias to notice that the hilt of his sword felt different beneath his hand, but upon glancing down, he immediately realized that more had changed than simply their location. The sword sheathed at his side (and how long had it been since he'd even had a scabbard to keep his sword in?) certainly wasn't the utilitarian piece of metal that Roy had made for him; it was his sword, the blade Gamgee had forged that no one else had spared a second glance - proof enough that his criticism of Lacour's increasingly lax standards for swords had been justified - the Swallowblade.
It made little sense for his own weapon to have been restored to him, except that by now he'd begun to adapt to the perverse nature of the institute and could easily guess the twisted logic. This was an arena; clearly someone wanted to see a good fight.
He'd nearly forgotten Sync in the midst of taking stock of the strange new situation they found themselves in, but clearly Sync wasn't nearly as distracted, as a sudden flare of light - some sort of magic, and Dias' esteem of the boy plummeted just a bit further; normally someone who could combine magic and martial arts would in fact have earned respect from Dias, but as an enemy it just made Sync all the more aggravating - signaled the start of what would probably end as an attack on Guy. Dias' move to go after the boy was more delayed than Claude's, but that worked out well, as it meant that Dias had some forewarning rather than the both of them running into what seemed to be - and felt, when he approached and cautiously explored the boundary with a hand - some sort of invisible wall. More magic, probably.
It was as if the institute was just trying to give him reasons to hate it at this point.
Re: Coliseum Floor - South
It took a moment for Dias to notice that the hilt of his sword felt different beneath his hand, but upon glancing down, he immediately realized that more had changed than simply their location. The sword sheathed at his side (and how long had it been since he'd even had a scabbard to keep his sword in?) certainly wasn't the utilitarian piece of metal that Roy had made for him; it was his sword, the blade Gamgee had forged that no one else had spared a second glance - proof enough that his criticism of Lacour's increasingly lax standards for swords had been justified - the Swallowblade.
It made little sense for his own weapon to have been restored to him, except that by now he'd begun to adapt to the perverse nature of the institute and could easily guess the twisted logic. This was an arena; clearly someone wanted to see a good fight.
He'd nearly forgotten Sync in the midst of taking stock of the strange new situation they found themselves in, but clearly Sync wasn't nearly as distracted, as a sudden flare of light - some sort of magic, and Dias' esteem of the boy plummeted just a bit further; normally someone who could combine magic and martial arts would in fact have earned respect from Dias, but as an enemy it just made Sync all the more aggravating - signaled the start of what would probably end as an attack on Guy. Dias' move to go after the boy was more delayed than Claude's, but that worked out well, as it meant that Dias had some forewarning rather than the both of them running into what seemed to be - and felt, when he approached and cautiously explored the boundary with a hand - some sort of invisible wall. More magic, probably.
It was as if the institute was just trying to give him reasons to hate it at this point.