Ben raised his pickaxe, instincts sharp. He expected the Magus to come charging, but instead, the man turned sharply, his body flickering toward another direction entirely.
Ben's brows furrowed. "Where the hell's he going?" he muttered under his breath, watching the trail of sparks left in the Magus's wake. "Escape? Or a trap?" Something didn't add up.
On the wall, Elvira worked feverishly over the magic circle. Her hands moved with speed, rewriting runes and forcing mana into new pathways.
"If I can just find the frequency..." she whispered to herself, eyes narrowing. Then her head snapped up. Her heart skipped.
'My Beloved go after him! He probably want to do something so you cannot break his spell.'
Ben's expression hardened the moment her words reached him. His eyes flashed toward the fading figure. The realization hit like ice in his gut.
