Elias barely had time to react when the lead enforcer spoke up, his voice booming with authority. “Elias Vael, you are hereby under detention as per the Association’s decree. Do not resist.”


    A trio of Enforcers stormed in, their white coats with golden stitches flaring as they moved. The lead enforcer wasted no time unscrolling the parchment with a practiced efficiency, reading out Elias’ charges in a firm voice.


    “By the authority of the Continental Magic Association, you are under arrest for unregulated spell casting and obstruction of official operations. Surrender now, and you will not be harmed.”


    Elias exhaled slowly, measuring his options. He could see their gathered mana reserves. They were ready for a fight. “I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I said this was a misunderstanding?”


    The Enforcer’s glare didn’t waver. “Resist, and we will have to do it the unpleasant way.”


    Elias clenched his fist, his voice coming out firm despite the growing fear clawing at his conscience. “Then come and take me.”


    A luminous haze filled the air, invisible to most but clear as day to him. The flow of magical energy in this space was intensifying. It pulsed like veins across his home, the presence of unfamiliar spell craft slithering through the cracks in the walls.


    As the Enforcers stormed in, their auras burned like controlled flames, each one radiating restrained but powerful magical force. A blast of pure magical force shattered the floorboards as Elias hurled a spell forward. The lead enforcer reacted instantly – calmly muttering an incantation for a barrier. The air in front of him crystallizes into hexagonal plates, a complex structure that diffuses any magical energy that comes into contact with it. The spell struck the barrier, scattering harmlessly against its hexagonal plates. Some of its force diffused into the shield, while the rest ricocheted wildly.


    Another officer flanking him lunged towards Elias, suppression runes glinting in his hand. The room erupts in a silent yet deadly fight of the arcane. A third enforcer moves, already casting a binding spell, its golden threads glowing around Elias.


    Elias could see magic flowing in the air, concentrating around his feet. He shifted his sights, glimpsing the raw threads of magic lacing through the air – predicting spells before they could be completed. A gust of wind burst from his feet, interrupting the control spell before its structure could form, its magical golden threads scattering in the air. Before he could celebrate, a surge of magic crackled past his side – dangerously close. An Enforcer lunged, suppression runes glowing at his fingertips. Elias twisted, sidestepping the strike, his magic vision revealing the attack a split second before it landed.


    The lead enforcer murmurs an incantation for a matter manipulation spell. The wooden beams of the house rattled, responding to his call. Sensing his intentions, Elias quickly channeled a brief flash of light, momentarily distracting the lead enforcer and interrupting his progress. As the fight dragged on, Elias’ magic vision proves to be an immense advantage, despite his lack of advanced spell craft training. His mana reserves, however, had other plans. He knew this wouldn’t last. He needed an escape.


    His eyes darted toward the window. With a sharp breath, he gathered his strength and leapt – just as the second enforcer’s spell rushed past his side, slightly charring his shirt. The glass shattered into countless pieces, creating a cascade of crystals raining on the pavements below. He barely managed to twist midair, hitting the street below in a row before breaking into a sprint. His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind was still catching up to process this string of events. His feet carried him forward – Driftstep kicking in, a spell he knew by instinct.


    At Elias’ house, the trio of Enforcers quickly cancel their incantations. The hexagonal plates dissociate, their once solid-like appearance diffusing into the wind. They quickly give chase, trailing behind Elias like ominous omens.


    As Elias rushed through the streets of Fallowfield, rushed spells moved the cobblestone of the road slightly above the even ground, in hopes of tripping the Enforcers. Rocks and pebbles moved and shifted, their movements a stark contrast to the still stones that line the pavements. As he rounds a bend, a narrow corridor came into his view. Elias slithered through the corridor and disappeared into a dark alley, his form merging into the shadows.


    Stolen story; please report.


    When the lead enforcer rounded the corner, he couldn’t see a soul in sight. Two other enforcers flanked him, their eyebrows raised in confusion. In a commanding tone, the lead enforcer barks, his orders clear to his subordinates:


    “He’s close. Lock down the sector. He won’t slip past us again.”


    <hr>


    Lord Ettore stood in stillness, his authority as a Senior Enforcer grounding him in the moment. The city of Fallowfield stretched beneath him like a living tapestry. From atop his vantage point – a weathered clock tower overlooking the district – he watched with a detached gaze as the chase unfolded below. The Enforcers wove through the streets in pursuit of their quarry, their golden-stitched coats cutting through the dim glow of street lanterns.


    Gloved fingers brushed against his cuffs, straightening them with practiced ease. The silver insignia of his rank gleamed in the moonlight, an unspoken reminder of his authority. With a slow exhale, he turned his focus beyond mere sight – reaching for the unseen.


    Faint tendrils of mana painted the world in shifting hues, invisible to most. His subordinates’ signatures pulsed like steady heartbeats – disciplined, controlled. But Elias’ presence was erratic, flickering like wildfire in the wind. Fast and reckless. Trying to outmaneuver trained Enforcers with raw talent alone. His gaze followed the glow of Elias’ aura as it darted through the alleys, weaving between buildings in an increasingly desperate bid for escape. He was gaining ground, slipping past checkpoints with an agility that neared defiance.


    He was coming this way.


    Lord Ettore exhaled softly, already anticipating the outcome. It was time. In one fluid motion, he stepped forward and dropped from the clock tower.


    <hr>


    Elias'' breath came in ragged gasps as he sprinted through the narrow streets of Fallowfield, boots striking the cobblestones with desperate urgency. His side ached from the earlier spell impact, but he forced himself onward, weaving through the market stalls and darting between alleyways.


    He was losing them.


    A quick glance behind confirmed it – the three Enforcers trailing him had fallen back, their magic signatures fading from his senses. He took the next turn sharply, rounding the corner below the clock tower. The air distorted, rippling with unseen force. Then, with the weight of an executioner’s verdict, something plunged from the sky.


    The impact struck like a hammer. A crushing wave of force hit the cobblestones ahead of him, shattering the ground in a controlled blast of pressure. Elias skidded to a halt, heart hammering, as the dust settled. The wind howled past the figure’s pristine white coat, the golden trims shimmering in the light as it plummeted toward the streets below.


    Lord Ettore stood before him, his Enforcer insignia shining in the light.


    His posture was composed, almost casual, moving with practiced grace and efficiency. The Senior Enforcer straighted with ease, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve before finally locking eyes with Elias’.


    “Running? A mage of your talents would''ve thought of something by now.” Ettore’s voice was calm and measured.


    Elias clenched his fists, his mind racing. This wasn’t like the others. The aura surrounding Ettore was vast, controlled – a sea of mana held in perfect stillness. There were no wasted movements, no flickers of excess magic. He could barely perceive its limits, as if standing before an unfathomable chasm.


    But he couldn’t afford to hesitate. His fingers twitched, sparks of mana already threading into a new spell. “I don’t plan to be caught.”


    Lord Ettore’s expression remained unreadable. “Then you are mistaken.”


    Elias moved first. A burst of mana surged through his legs as he lunged sideways, launching a feint before twisting into a real attack. His fingers traced a quick incantation, sending a kinetic blast toward the Enforcer’s side.


    Ettore stepped aside, evading with a movement so smooth it was barely perceptible. No wasted effort. No hesitation.


    Elias didn’t stop. He flowed. One spell became another, his pivot low, a pulse of force rippling toward the ground – meant to shatter Ettore’s footing. Ettore shifted again. A precise half-step backward, letting the force dissipate harmlessly against the cobblestones. He wasn’t counter-attacking. Elias exhaled sharply, the strains of spell casting creeping up his senses.


    Then, Ettore moved. It was subtle. A slight turn, a flicker of motion — so small that Elias almost didn’t recognize it as an attack. But in the next instant, a force brushed against his wrist, barely redirecting his next spell just an inch off-course.


    Not overpowering. Just guiding.


    Elias'' mind caught up a second too late. He tried to adjust, twisting into a different angle – only for Ettore to shift with him, subtly mirroring his footwork.


    Recognition flickered in the Senior Enforcer’s gaze. Not surprise. Not admiration. Something closer to memory.


    “Your way of combat… I used to fight like that.”


    Elias faltered, if only for a heartbeat. Ettore’s stance, his calculated responses – they weren’t just defensive. He had seen these movements before. He understood them. Because once, long ago, they had been his own.


    Elias took another step back. Ettore did not press forward. He did not need to. The realization had already settled between them.


    “You believe instinct will carry you,” Ettore said quietly. “That raw talent is enough.”


    Elias’ fingers twitched, magic sparking at his fingertips.


    Within the blink of an eye, threads coiled around Elias in an instant, severing him from his magic reserves. He could not move. He could not cast spells. All he could do, was watch.


    Ettore held his gaze. “It won’t be.”