Ben raised his pickaxe.
His instincts stayed sharp as he watched the Magus.
He expected the man to charge straight at him.
Instead, the Magus twisted in midair and shot off in another direction.
Ben frowned.
He followed the trail of sparks in the air.
"Where the hell is he going?" he muttered.
"Escape, or a trap?" Something felt wrong.
On the wall, Elvira knelt over the magic circle.
Her hands moved quickly as she rewrote runes and forced mana into new lines.
"If I can just find the frequency..." she whispered.
Her eyes narrowed in focus.
Then her head snapped up.
Her heart skipped a beat.
'My Beloved, go after him!
He probably wants to do something so you cannot break his spell.'
Ben's expression hardened at once.
He looked at the fading figure of the Magus and understood.
If the Magus stabilized the aether into a complete spell, there would be nothing left for Ben to break with his pickaxe.
His only real advantage would disappear.
