Pride, for the first time, lifted his hand and went for a grab. It was slow, awfully and painfully slow. Ludwig didn't even have the instinct to react, as this was something that even a child could avoid; all he needed was to dodge.
The motion was almost insulting in its laziness. No flare of mana. No pressure spike. No grand gesture that announced power. Just fingers extending through the amber light like Pride was reaching for an object on a shelf. The air didn't even ripple the way it did when spells formed. The dome's glow stayed steady, the mirrors stayed silent, and the heaps of gold didn't so much as clink.
Ludwig saw it, registered it, even judged the angle, neck-high, straight line, no deception. His feet were planted on the marble and he knew he could step aside, half a stride and the hand would cut nothing but heat.
But he didn't.
