The young noble who helped Viscount Tides with the central rune stepped forward. He was a dark-haired man of twenty-five with cruel features and a self-important bearing. His voice was clipped and practised. “Positions. Now.” He looked at Jack. “I’m Kendrel,” he said with icy precision. “I’ve performed sixteen rituals. I lead this circle.” He stepped behind one of the twelve outer runes. “Take your places.”

  He’s a mage. Jack had noticed a high-quality wand on his belt.

  They moved into position, each one standing at a rune. Jack took his spot, the rune cold beneath his boots.

  Kendrel sneered at him. “You. Commoner. You better not fuck up. I’ll gut you if you ruin this, boy.”

  The other young nobles chuckled.

  Jack offered a timid nod. Let’s see who guts who.

  They fanned out. One noble per rune. Jack took his place opposite Kendrel. He felt the weight of the painted rune in front of him; it was like standing on the rim of a loaded gun.

  Jack couldn’t let Cain die. He pictured little Zia waiting for Cain to visit, but he never did. She’d blame herself. Cain no longer loved her. He shook his head. No. I won’t let that happen. Cain’s blood will not be on my hands, but I have to protect my family.

  A plan began to unfurl in his mind. Fuck! This is a terrible plan!

  Jack looked towards the bound Cain. He had a plan to save the warrior, but it relied on perfect timing and a hell of a lot of luck.

  He closed his eyes and gave a quick prayer to the Gods and touched his hand to the breast pocket where his spell scrolls were stored. Remember. Three [Frost Breath] and two [Fireball]. Three frost… two fire. He closed his eyes and prayed again that he wouldn’t have to burn them.

  Kendrel raised his hand. “Begin.”

  The chant rolled out in ancient elven. Deep and steady.

  Jack joined in. Stay lucid. Don’t fall into a trance.

  The runes pulsed white, and the light in the chamber dimmed.

  He felt the trance try to take hold of him. It felt slow, drugged, and seductive. He stopped chanting and bit his cheek. It had no effect; his eyes started to close. Fuck!

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  Jack drew his dagger, sliced his left palm, and grimaced as pain bloomed and the fog receded. Keep fucking lucid. He dug his fingernails into the thin wound and moaned.

  It was working… for now.

  The others fell deeper into the trance, their eyes closed and their breath shallowed. They swayed as they began to automatically chant.

  Jack’s heart raced with what he was about to do. What he had to do to save Cain. Eleven must die to save one. He crouched, dagger drawn, and placed his hand on the prepared [Chronos Sphere] scroll, and froze as panic… He tightened his grip on the rough handle of his dagger; it felt right, and the panic receded.

  Blood mages are evil. They have to die, he convinced himself. “[Chronos Sphere],” he whispered.

  The spell attached to the scroll would accelerate time by five times for three seconds. He’d in effect be moving five times faster than normal for three seconds.

  Time dragged, and the world slowed as Jack moved while the world moved at a snail’s pace. Three steps to his right.

  He stabbed the noble beside him in the heart and felt his palm burn as the wave of power flooded him. “Fuck!” he gasped. He felt amazing. The blade felt part of him. What was that?

  He had no time to think about it. He twisted the blade free and sliced it across the young girl’s neck as Olivia’s eyes opened in slow motion. She crumpled to the floor, her blood spraying over the white rune. The rune glowed a dull red as it absorbed the young blood mage’s blood.

  Ten left.

  A new pseudo skill formed as he ran to the next noble in line. It was a young man in his early twenties with a sword at his side. He guessed he was a warrior, but could’ve been a knight or another class, and he just liked swords. Who knew with nobles?

  Jack dragged his blade across the man’s throat, then plunged it into his chest as his second cull dropped to the floor. Again, his palm burned, and he felt like he could run a marathon.

  Fuck. I’m killing in cold blood! Despite feeling sick at what he was doing, he didn’t stop.

  The young noble’s blood covered the white rune; it glowed an ominous red as it absorbed his life force.

  Nine.

  Another new pseudo skill formed. With no time to waste, he drew the sword from the corpse’s side and looked at Kendrel. Time returned to normal; fifteen seconds had passed for Jack, three for the others.

  He’s got to be an Apprentice Mage.

  If he were right, that would make him the biggest threat in the chamber.

  Kendrel stood behind the white rune behind Cain, still chanting.

  “I hope this works,” Jack whispered, before running towards Kendrel while activating the warrior pseudo skill, First Strike. It was the first time activating a pseudo skill.

  Jack surged forward. One blink and he was in front of Kendrel. He aimed for the blood mage’s neck. The sword’s blade sheared through Kendrel’s face just above the jawline to the now familiar itching right palm and surge of power. Teeth, blood, and two-thirds of a head splattered across the chamber floor.

  “Shit! That was… strange,” he whispered at how the skill felt. He also noticed his palm itched rather than burned this time.

  The power from the three blood mage kills was intoxicating; he felt like he could do anything. Jack had to steady himself as the top of the noble’s head hit the ground before his body knew it was dead.

  Another pseudo skill formed. He ignored it. He had no time to understand how a new skill might be useful.

  More blood poured onto a white rune, causing it to glow bright red as it absorbed an Apprentice Mage’s blood. The white line connecting the outer rune to the central rune flashed red and pulsed towards Cain.