Great Debate 1-1-E

A great wall, easily twenty or thirty metres tall, had sprung up under it, connecting down from Phoenix to the ground like some kind of cylindrical tower that ringed the arena. It cut us off from getting in, preventing us from even seeing what was going on. Everyone in the stands was safe assuming they weren't knocked into it, but the Kings of Vale and Mistral were trapped inside, essentially locked away in another world for all we could hope to do.

"Weiss?" I asked.

The Mage responded not with words but with ice and water instead, blasting a huge amount of it at the wall of flame. The ice struck and melted instantly, joining the water in casting great gouts of steam into the air. It hissed and burned, evaporating almost immediately. The wall did not so much as flicker, let alone weaken.

She tried again, this time creating a tunnel of ice that she thrust into it, hoping to give us at least a few seconds with which we could get inside. But that, too, failed to get past, collapsing in on itself the moment it touched the unnatural fire.

[...]

I knelt, picked up a loose pebble and tossed it at the wall. It fizzled and cracked instantly, exploding into tiny shards of rock and dust. It hadn't even passed through, instead being knocked back at us by the force.

[...]

The metal fell in on itself as it finally became liquid. Modulating the heat with my hands in order to alternate between fully liquid and not, just a little solid, I drew it up onto my body. There was a gasp from nearby, someone no doubt seeing what they must have perceived as pure suicide. It would have been were it not for my Passive. I was still forging, after all, so to me it felt like tepid water all across my body.

More and more came, until my body was covered. With my hands and my mind, I smoothed it as best I could, allowing one piece to cool enough to become solid and then, with a combination of my hands and my Engraving Skill, scraping the area flat until it resembled armour. At least enough so to adhere and attach to my body. If it were anything less, or too much a liquid, it would fall or slide off. Piece by piece, minute by agonising minute, I built the suit of armour up, starting with my feet and legs before moving onto my thighs, hips, stomach and then chest. It was a hideously constricting suit of plate that covered every segment of my body, movement only allowed by intersecting plates at my joints.

The final piece was the helm, which I shaped up by pulling molten metal with my fingers over my cheeks and face, closing my eyes as I worked. When it was done, I could barely breathe, but a quick pull of my fingers across my mouth and eyes created space enough to see and draw breath.

[...]

Before they could ask how or why, I turned and stepped into the inferno. I took a breath a second before I did and held it, running a gauntlet down over my faceplate to once more cover my eyes and mouth.

[...]

It felt like an eternity but couldn't have been. It was more akin to thirty seconds, but my lungs burned from lack of air and I wanted nothing more than to tear the helmet from my head. To do so, however, would be to incinerate myself immediately.

–B6C14