Valttair moved first.
[Morgain's Last Dusk]
Mana condensed along his blade until the surrounding air tightened under the strain. The vibration that followed was sharp and continuous, a rising metallic hum that made the fractured courtyard resonate in response. The white light of his sword did not flare outward; it compressed inward, refined into a single, lethal trajectory.
He stepped through the motion without excess.
The diagonal ascent cut upward through space itself, and the air parted cleanly along its path as though reality had been forced to accept the blade's authority. The arc left behind a thin distortion that lingered for a fraction of a second before collapsing inward.
Trafalgar saw everything.
Not just the movement.
The structure.
The mana compression.
The timing of release.
Sword Insight activated.
The world narrowed.
