The observation tier of the Citadel shuddered under the weight of the spell-feed.
Golden light poured across the projection chamber, cast not by illusion, but by raw force. Mana readings spiked across the aether-tracking glyphs, breaking past the second-tier tolerance limits. Runes flickered red. Warning sigils bloomed.
"He activated a combat-restricted sigil," one analyst gasped. "That's... an Emperor-class burst array—unauthorized!"
Another technician slammed his palm against a control sphere. "The surge was deliberate. It's not slipping—he's focusing it."
From the center screen, Seran Velcross's blade shimmered with golden-red mana, dense enough to warp space. The strike that followed shattered the illusion of restraint. No longer a duel.
This was attempted lethality.
"He's trying to kill him," someone said aloud. It wasn't a theory. It was a fact.
"And he'll succeed if we don't—"
"—intervene now!"
Panic surged like wildfire.
