~Laurent
The world slowed.
The spears weren’t made of steel — they were light itself, shaped and alive, humming through the air as they came for me. Three of them, maybe four. My brain barely had time to count.
I threw myself sideways.
One tore through my coat, another grazed my shoulder, a third split the earth beside me and sent a shockwave up my legs. Heat licked my skin where it passed, like it wanted to brand me.
The arcanist didn’t pause to watch. He just kept summoning more. They hissed into being above his head, hanging in a half-circle halo of death. His expression didn’t change — focused, bored, clinical.
So this was what an arcanist could really do when they were fighting to kill and not because of a tournament.
I didn’t think I stood a chance against him so I ran.
Branc
