Since he was clear-headed now, unlike his first use of his law where he had no choice but to select beginning traits for survival, Michael wanted to experint and see the true potential of his law and its efficiency.
He chose to start with Wisdom first.
Currently, Wisdom could be fully classified as a space-type beast.
Its passive state, which Michael found particularly attractive, was the infinite energy granted by its connection to the void and the speed amplifier it possessed.
When Michael echoed Wisdom into his existence, the law would surely weaken and change slightly to match him, but the foundation would remain the sa.
Michael had already been fast before all this, but he did not expect the level of speed he could achieve.
So even though Michael was in pain from ragdolling himself, his heart was still beating fast with excitent.
For a mont, the field did not breathe.
Elves who had been whispering earlier stood frozen, mouths half open, eyes widened as if their minds could not decide whether what they had seen was real. Even so of the instructors stiffened, their instincts flaring far too late.
The distance was not small.
He had vanished from the center and appeared far behind her in the ti it took a thought to form.
And the speed that followed was worse.
A ripple of fear passed through the crowd before anyone could stop
it.
Aeloria felt it too.
For the briefest instant, sothing tightened in her chest.
Then her pride crushed it.
Fear was not sothing a royal should entertain, especially not in front of her court, her instructors, and the Sanctuary supervisor.
Her eyes remained calm.
Her face remained composed.
Only her gaze sharpened.
She turned her head slowly, looking toward the trail of torn grass and pale soil where Michael had finally stopped.
"That movent..." soone whispered, voice strained.
"It was like-"
"Silence," an instructor hissed, but it was too late.
The shock had already settled into the field like frost.
Aeloria lifted her hand, fingers poised, and her voice cut cleanly
through the stunned quiet.
"Tideveil," she said, tone flat. "Stonebound."
Both beasts responded instantly.
The mist around the Tideveil tightened, drawing inward like a breath held. The Stonebound Colossus shifted its weight, the ground compressing beneath its feet.
Aeloria's gaze did not leave Michael.
"Go," she ordered.
The Tideveil's fins trembled.
The Stonebound's plates clicked faintly.
Then Spartan moved.
His voice was calm.
"Three against three," Spartan said.
The Tideveil hesitated.
So did the Stonebound.
Spartan's head tilted slightly, and his gaze settled on Aeloria with a cold, steady certainty.
"You face our master," he continued. "One on one."
His eyes shifted briefly, acknowledging the two beasts.
"We face your summons."
They did not wait for the princess to react.
Spartan and Ghost launched forward at the sa ti as the Tideveil and the Stonebound Colossus surged to et them. The four collided midair, force slamming into force, leaving the ground beneath them untouched and empty.
For an instant, the sky itself seed split.
And Aeloria was left alone on the ground.
Her attention snapped back when a warning scread at the back of
her mind.
She moved on instinct.
Aeloria twisted sharply to the side, robes flaring as she abandoned her
position without hesitation.
A heartbeat later, Michael tore through the space she had just
occupied.
He ca in sideways, body completely out of control, a blur of montum and violence. The air cracked as he passed, grass exploding upward in a thin line where his shoulder skimd the
ground.
He did not touch her.
But he passed close enough that the wind of it ripped at her hair.
Michael slamd into the ground several ters beyond her, bounced once, then rolled hard, carving another rough scar into the
field before skidding to a stop.
Aeloria straightened slowly, eyes narrowed now.
Her heart was beating faster than she liked. "Dammit! I thought I got the speed right this ti."
Though his tone made it clear he was complaining, Michael wore a
wide smile on his face.
Aeloria barely had ti to settle her footing before the warning ca
again.
Her pupils tightened.
She moved.
A sharp step, a half-turn, robes snapping as she slid away from the
point her instincts scread at.
A breath later, Michael flashed past her like a misplaced cot.
His body hit the ground wrong again, shoulder first, then hip, then
back, tumbling so fast the grey grass blurred into streaks. The impact dug a fresh trench, and pale soil fanned outward in thin sprays.
He rolled, bounced, rolled again.
And this ti, he did not stop to complain.
He twisted mid-roll, forced his hands under him, and used the montum to throw himself upright even as his feet failed to catch properly. He staggered once, then vanished again.
The space he left behind twitched.
Aeloria's warning flared.
She dodged.
Michael crashed through her previous position, tearing up grass and
air in the sa ugly line, then slamd down and skidded, his body scraping the ground like a thrown weapon.
He was up again.
Too fast.
Not clean.
Not controlled.
But relentless.
Again.
The warning.
The dodge.
The ragdoll blur ripping through where she had been.
Again. Aeloria's breathing stayed quiet, but her movents sharpened into pure efficiency. She stopped trying to track him with her eyes. She trusted the warning and moved on the first pulse of it, every step asured, every shift precise.
And for several seconds, it beca a strange pattern that made the watching elves forget to blink.
A royal princess dodging desperately.
A human launching himself like a broken arrow. Michael kept disappearing and reappearing, each burst ending with another violent tumble, each tumble ending with him forcing himself back into motion before his body could protest.
He hit the ground, rolled, sprang up.
Hit the ground, rolled, sprang up.
His clothes were already sared with dirt. His palms were raw. His
shoulder scread.
And his grin only widened.
Because every ti he vanished, the distance he crossed was tighter.
Every ti he reappeared, the angle was closer.
Every ti he ragdolled, the recovery was faster.
Aeloria felt it too. Michael Norman was adjusting. Michael was getting closer.
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