Behind them, the mages did their part. Fire and ice particles rained from the sky, exploding against an invisible barrier.

  “Okay then, let’s play hard,” the Commander said, downing a potion.

  Small clouds gathered overhead—at first thin, uncertain streaks that looked almost harmless. Then they stalled. Thickened. Darkened. The air grew heavy, charged enough that the men could feel it crawling along their skin.

  One of them glanced at the sky, then back at him. His hand tightened around his weapon.

  “Commander… are you sure?”

  For a moment, the Commander didn’t answer. He looked past them—past the barrier, past the shouting, past the smoke—to whatever was happening on the other side.

  “People are dying,” he said quietly.

  Then he smiled, just a little. “And I won’t.”

  He reached into the charged air, his fingers hooking an invisible line. He drew back, his posture locking with the tension of a master archer.

  His voice dropped—sharp, final. His pupils contracted, then flared, snapping back and forth like they were struggling to focus on more than one reality at once.

  “Sniper’s Edge.” The commander said, releasing the string.

  Ten bolts of lightning struck. The first three were enough to completely shatter the barrier; the rest demonstrated why the move was called Sniper’s Edge. Lightning threaded through the now battlefield like needles through cloth—skipping civilians by inches, curving around bodies that weren’t targets, tearing through the others with surgical cruelty. No missed strikes. No excess.

  “That’s the Commander!” someone shouted. The other thirty knights went into an uproar as they saw their work cut short.

  “Ever missed?” the acting vice asked, helping the Commander up. The Commander’s eyes were shut. He let out a laugh, but the smile slowly faded as he remembered what he had just seen.

  “Tell the boys to run—run!” the Commander shouted, violently pushing the acting vice away.

  “Too late. Do it now,” a man said, standing atop a building with a girl and a boy on either side of him. “Sniper’s Edge,” he said with a smile.

  “The rest is up to you. Don’t disappoint,” the female said, leaving with the other man. The boy was left alone.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Joe was in bed, resting, when he felt a tingling sensation. He didn't doubt the feeling; between him and the incoming attack, he wasn't going to be the one who lost.

  Some distance away, a Stuled—a mongrel-looking dog that served as a spy for the guild—stared at the house. Sense struck it, but its nerves were too slow. Joe had already passed it, holding Mira in his arms. Even she was behind the pace of his movement, clinging tightly to him. The Stuled veered left, lowering its height, its tail twisting from side to side as it navigated sharp turns. The message had already been passed to its owner.

  Joe, meanwhile, was sprinting through the streets. People were dying behind him without even realizing it. He cut left and right, his legs taking turns like tires gripping the road. The Guild Master was already out and received Mira from a speeding Joe, who threw her toward him.

  District 80 was now slowly being swallowed by fog. Ben ran, dodging lightning strikes.

  “Boy, send the message! We need help before it becomes bloody in Zurehn,” the acting vice forced the words out, his eyes—and the eyes of everyone else—turning red. The boy fought through the mental strain and the message went out, clear for any Kytheri to hear, from the highest ranks to the lowest.

  “Julien, we need to destroy the whole of District 35 before…”

  “I’m heading there. I won’t kill innocent people,” Julien replied.

  “You are in Varkune…”

  “He’s gone. That’s Julien for you,” the other man said, laughing.

  Just as Julien stepped outside, a lightning bolt struck him. That was the plan, at least—but it didn't even leave a scratch.

  The crowds gave them away. Joe was running at full force toward them, the fog still thick behind him. He jumped onto a rooftop. District 35 was full of buildings, 'hopefully no one dies' Joe thought, leaping from roof to roof until his gaze fell upon the bloody streets. Knights were on a killing spree, and people were fleeing in terror.

  He took a final jump, twisting mid-air before landing on both feet. Veins stood out on his forehead. Everyone was against him, and the fog was consuming the entire area, buildings and all.

  “Sniper’s Ed—”

  “What’s up with this?” a man asked, grabbing the boy by the jaw.

  “Mmmm, mmmm,” the boy tried to speak. Once the man released his grip, the boy gasped, “Leon? I… I…”

  “Not Leon.”

  “Juli… I… if you kill me, you won’t be able to control…” the boy started, then smiled. “This world belongs to us. We magicians.”

  “I hope you take it. If not,” Julien said, his other hand glowing white.

  A white ball of energy was conjured. Julien placed it against the boy's heart. It ate through him, passing from the chest to the other side, where Julien caught the sphere as it emerged, though blood gushed out, the sphere was as clean as new fallen snow.

  Joe on the other hand was having light work of the knights;They were simply outmatched. It was light work for him. With two daggers in hand, he was stabbing and slicing through everyone in his path. A few more minutes passed, and the fog began to vanish.

  “You are growing. Outstanding to see you drown districts in your fog,” Julien said, before leaving the scene.

  Joe looked around at the mess that had been created. Blood and bodies were everywhere. He saw lost eyes staring into the unknown—eyes he had grown used to seeing. They were the dead eyes of civilians and knights alike.

  “It’s amazing you got here that fast. District 35 is thankful,” the head knight said. More knights were arriving now; as far as the eye could see, they were getting to work. Some were already clearing the area, while others made sure no one passed through or even stared in.

  “I was targeted. If not, I might also have been late,” Joe replied, already moving away from the bloody district.

  The head knight looked at him—a man of black complexion and average height. “Thank you still, regardless of the reason,” he said, before turning back to his men.

  A carriage was waiting, already prepared by the head knight for Joe; walking back simply wasn’t an option. It took some time, but he finally made it back to the guild. There was a commotion inside, with most of the crowd gathered around, talking about him.

  “So you mean he’s good?” one man said, unaware that Joe was standing right behind him.

  “Who?” Joe asked.

  The man jumped. “Oh, Joe! You’re fine. Damn, we were worried—District 86 is in danger without your presence,” he said, relief washing over his face.

  “I would like some time with the Guild Master,” Joe said. “For your good intentions toward me, today’s drinks are on me.” He left the men and women in an uproar of cheers as he headed for the stairs.

  He climbed the steps, but he had barely entered the Guild Master’s room when his legs gave up, completely shutting down.

  “Whoa there,” the Guild Master said, catching him before the hard fall.

  “I expected it. You rest,” the Guild Master continued, dragging Joe toward a table. “But next time, don’t throw Mira like that. It’s risky. Lucky I was there with the amplifiers.”