Some time earlier, inside the Mage Tower, the Tower Master crossed spells with Necrobix.0

Darkness burst like a storm front, and the Tower Master slipped out of the explosion with a rippling step. His condition was dire. The robe that had wrapped his frame lay in tatters scattered across the battlements, and the bones that composed his body were cracked in several places and cleanly broken in others. Even so, he did not fall. He gathered himself, balanced his weight across splintered legs, and stared at Necrobix with eyes that refused to dim.0

“That attack would have killed an Elder Dragon a dozen times over,” Necrobix observed, its tone almost appreciative. “You do possess the strength to be called the mightiest mage of the Mortal Realm.”1

“In that case, it would be pleasant if you returned where you came from,” the Tower Master replied, and the words were acid in his throat.0

“That is not possible. Piercing Round.”0

The air whipped, and a bullet too clean to be seen cut forward. The Tower Master did not hesitate. He lifted a hand and traced a sigil that was already waiting inside his will.0

“Sever Space,” the Tower Master chanted.0

A slice opened before him. The bullet entered the wound in reality and vanished.0

“Rejoin Space,” the Tower Master chanted again.0

The severed segment unfolded behind Necrobix, precisely where its back should have been safe. The Piercing Round struck the spot directly between its shoulders. However, nothing happened.0

“That is very close to the correct answer,” Necrobix said, unhurried and completely unruffled. “However,...0