Raizen instantly moved.
He did not wait for the crowd to finish screaming. He did not check who ran beside him. He slipped under the half-lifted bar, found the line his feet had voted for, and took it. First zone - open lanes, stacked cover, the kind of space where speed mattered more than excuses.
The tram rail threw shadow bars across the floor. Class 1 Nyxes scuttled in that shade like pests trying to look brave. Thin arms. Too many joints. Heads that turned too far. He met the first three in a single breath. Blade out, one clean cut each. No flourish. No pause. The suit at his spine stayed cool and polite.
The host laughed into the sky. "And we have a runner! Someone's late for breakfast. Security, stop this man. He is committing cardio."
