Ronan moved along the perimeter, mana reserves lower than he'd like after sustaining Stealth for this long. The technique didn't consume much individually, but over an hour the drain added up, leaving him perhaps seventy percent capacity. Not ideal, but manageable.
He'd need to sit down and replenish his strength.
Then he spotted it, a claimable piece of land.
It sat perhaps thirty meters ahead, a marble slab jutting from the grass, its surface carved with intricate geometric patterns that caught the light from the sun perfectly. The point looked legitimate – Academy-standard construction, correct mana signature, no visible tampering. From the looks of it, there didn't seem to be anyone near.
Ronan moved toward it.
An icicle flew past his head.
He didn't flinch – the trajectory had been horrible, off by at least two feet. But it wasn't clumsy. It was clear that it was a warning more than an attack.
