The Elector swiped his bare left hand across the empty air.
The pristine white flesh peeled back and glitched with black digital squares.
Raziel threw his body backward.
He hit the cold stone floor of the Founder's room and slid across the dusty tiles. A massive, flat gray void ripped open in the exact spot where he just stood.
The unrendered hole deleted the small wooden desk and erased the brittle feather quill resting on top of it.
The void expanded toward his boots and chewed on the floor.
Raziel scrambled backward until his spine hit the brick wall of the cell.
He operated on five percent stamina and a drained mana core while held the heavy bronze map in his right hand.
He stared at the supreme commander of the Inquisition.
Mordecai did not run or jump.
He possessed administrative access to the physical reality of the server. He just lowered his hand and adjusted the gold trim on his white sleeve.
The black code vanished under the illusion of human skin.
