Trafalgar moved.
His step wasn't linear. It didn't cut forward or retreat backward. Instead, his body slid sideways through the space between heartbeats, following a shallow curve that bent around Darion's line of sight. One foot brushed the stone, barely pressing into it, and the rest followed in a smooth, economical motion that wasted nothing.
[Severance Step].
There was no explosion of mana to announce it. No dramatic surge. The movement was clean, precise, almost quiet, like a blade passing through air before the sound could catch up.
To Darion, it felt wrong.
Trafalgar wasn't where he had been a moment ago. But he also wasn't where Darion's instincts expected him to appear. The angle collapsed. Distance lost meaning. Darion turned too late, sword snapping toward a space Trafalgar no longer occupied.
Then he was there.
