He was thrown backward, his metal boots carving deep grooves into the rotting carpet as he skidded five meters away, barely keeping his balance.
From the darkness of the wardrobe, the figure burst out.
Percival looked through his hair and saw that it was a man. He wore purple robes like a Mage, and had a mop of blonde on his head.
"Stay back!" the young man screamed, his feet sliding over the floor as if on frictionless skates.
He thrust his hands forward, summoning raw mana and condensing it instantly into solid matter.
Ten jagged, translucent daggers of pure energy materialized in a fan formation.
They launched at Percival with supersonic speeds.
Percival's eyes narrowed. An Arcanist.
Only an Arcanist could bypass the conversion time of elemental magic and weaponize raw mana directly.
He grunted in his throat. Activating ⸢Grave Step⸥, he escaped the mana daggers and rematerialized instantly to the man's left.
