Her boots struck the concrete floor when she landed. Giant conduits ran along both walls, and the sweet scent of dream mana filled the air.

Another maintenance tunnel? She’d expected to emerge in a grassy field like the one from their midterm exam. Instead, her portal brought her below the arena.

But why?

The reason hit her a second later. Her captors had predicted her escape plan, and they’d warded that glass tank against space mana. But Akari wasn’t a Space Artist. In her case, the wards only reduced her range.

A door swung open on its creaking hinges, and three pairs of footsteps echoed down a nearby corridor.

Talek. How the hell was she supposed to deal with three Artisans? One of them was Sozen Trengsen, a Blade Artist who was probably even better than Kalden. The other looked like a Metal Artist.

“Stun rods only,” Sozen said from the adjacent hallway. “Lady Antano wants her alive.”

Ice filled her veins as her worst fears came true. She’d killed Valeria Antano’s son, and dragons weren’t known for their mercy.

Fortunately, Sozen’s voice helped her pinpoint her attackers, and Akari ran the opposite way. She didn’t need to beat these guys. She just had to survive long enough until help arrived.

Akari stopped cycling her mana as she ran, sticking close to the massive conduit on her right. Even if her attackers used their Silver Sight, they’d struggle to make out her form against the current of dream mana.

She almost hid behind the pipe, but that would be a mistake. Artisans had much better mana senses than Apprentices. With the right training, they could make out individual aspects and intentions. Besides, Akari had never mastered the art of shrouding her soul. They’d talked about it in Nightfang’s Survival class, but only for a few weeks. Better to keep moving.

She turned right at a junction, passing several security cameras along the way. Talek, this was bad. Elend had warned them about Dansin Roth, but he’d also said Raizen and Truewater were on his side. How could they get away with this?

Doesn’t matter now. Focus.

She cycled pure mana into spacetime, re-filling the drained half of her soul. Aspect conversions weren’t cheap, but pure mana wouldn’t help her now. Not against opponents at this level.

Akari rounded another corner and found a masked Artisan standing twenty paces away. It looked like Sozen’s friend from before. No sooner had their eyes met than the man raised his stun rod and pulled the trigger.

She’d been too slow back at the train station, and that memory still rubbed her like a stone in her shoe. You could have the best aspect and training in the world, but that meant nothing if you froze like a novice.

Not this time. Two spacetime Missiles leapt out from her outstretched palms. One formed a portal in her left hand, swallowing her opponent’s stun Missile. The second formed into a portal behind her opponent, and his own Missile struck the back of his head.

The man staggered, but he didn’t fall unconscious. No surprise there. He was an Artisan with top-tier combat gear, including a jacket, helmet, and vest. Running away seemed like the sensible choice. But no . . . he’d catch her if she ran. She’d also used the rest of her spacetime mana here, so running would put her in a worse position.

Better to go on the offensive.

The Artisan stepped forward, forming a steel shield around his body. Yep, definitely a Metal Artist. At the same time, he unleashed two more stun projectiles, followed by a pair of bullet-sized metal Missiles.

No portal could block so many techniques—not at Akari’s level. Instead, she spun the Construct over and leapt through it. This brought her behind her opponent where the stun Missile had emerged a second before.

The man rounded on her as his attacks struck empty air.

Akari lunged for the dagger on his belt. Most Metal Artists carried enhanced weapons, so she might do some actual damage with that.

Her opponent twisted his body into a defensive stance, raising his right arm. If he grabbed her, then it was all over. No amount of training or grappling techniques would matter against a two-hundred-pound Artisan.

Akari ducked and slid across the concrete floor. At the same time, she reached for her portals through the mana bonds, tugging them both with all her might. They broke, but they didn’t turn to mist. Instead, they morphed back into their Missile forms and flew toward her. This was impossible for ordinary Space Artists. Pure mana could switch forms, but most portals were one stern look away from breaking beyond repair.

Clearly, her aspect didn’t follow that rule. Maybe the temporal mana made it more grounded in reality. Or maybe it was Akari herself, and the time she’d spent with limited mana, forced to make one technique feel like ten.

Regardless, the how didn’t matter right now.

Akari formed one portal in front of her, and the other behind her opponent. She slid through, emerging behind him, and yanking the dagger from his belt.

The man spun to face her with a quick swipe of his arm. No time to dodge. Akari moved the portals a second time, catching his fist and knocking him off balance. She adjusted her grip on the blade and slashed his armpit.

The blade cut through his jacket, but his skin rang like steel. Stupid Artisan Cloak.

Just then, a second masked figure appeared at the end of the hall.

Her portals became Missiles once again, and she hurled the first one over the newcomer’s shoulder. Then she leapt through the second one and emerged behind him.

The first man had been ready, but she caught this one off guard. The blade struck the weak spot beneath his armor, cutting through skin and muscle. Blood coated the blade when she yanked it free, and she struck again.

Too slow. The man deflected with his forearm and hurled a fist into her solar plexus. Akari’s ribs cracked from the impact, and she flew a full ten paces down the hallway. Her head struck a pipe, but her Cloak saved her from a broken skull.

More Missiles closed in as both men attacked. Their mana soared like bullets, but her own Missiles moved faster still. These guys might be Artisans, but their mana was more mass than energy. They were no match for spacetime in a battle of raw speed.

Of course, she also couldn’t play defense forever.

Akari sent one portal behind the Metal Artist, then she flipped the other portal around and leapt through. She slashed at his throat, but her blade struck his Cloak once again.

The Metal Artist rounded on her, but she was already behind the second man, slashing at his leg. He dropped his weapon as he staggered forward. Akari grabbed it and turned the dial on the left side, cranking up the power. Portals kept fading and appearing all over the corridor, and she kept their placements random to keep them guessing.

Her opponents tried to keep up, but their attacks struck empty air. For all their speed and strength, they had no experience in a fight like this. No one did. Most Space Artists played support roles in battle, the way she had back in the library. They didn’t fight thugs in dark hallways.

But real Mana Artists weren’t made in schools, dueling rings, or televised games. They were made in moments like this. And this wasn’t just her present, but her past and future. She’d started this journey as a Bronze on Arkala, scraping by with a few drops of mana and some online videos. Before that, she’d been a duelist with no aspect.

Fighting stronger opponents was nothing new. If anything, she found her true self in these moments. Her mind, body, and soul all worked together like parts of a symphony, and she fought harder than she'd ever fought in a game.

Finally, the non-Metal Artist grabbed Akari’s wrist, spun her around, and pressed on her elbow. Her arm broke like a tree branch and hot lines of pain ran from her wrist to her shoulder. Akari dropped the stun rod. The air left her lungs in a rush as her opponent slammed her back into the concrete floor. Then he reached for the dagger in her left hand. The pain had caused her portals to fade, but she’d recovered more spacetime mana during the fight.

Just enough to bring back an old classic.

Spacetime mana flowed out from her left hand, and the second Missile shot out from her chest, straight at her opponent. The first portal swallowed her blade, and it pierced the Artisan’s throat.

The man opened his mouth in a silent scream, and a shower of warm blood rained on her face. Somehow, that shocked her more than anything else tonight. After spending a full day in the arena, she’d expected to see white light.

The Metal Artist raised his stun rod and fired from down the hall. Akari grabbed the other man’s twitching body by the shoulders, putting it between herself and the approaching Missile.

“Akari!” Kalden’s voice shouted her name, followed by the thunder of footsteps on stone.

The Metal Artist spun to face the sound, but it was only a diversion. No sooner had he turned around than Zukan Kortez emerged from the opposite corridor, armed with a flaming shield and spear.

Zukan was only an Apprentice, but he still towered over the Metal Artist by a full head. He charged the man full force with his shield, pinning him hard against the wall. This didn't injure the Artisan, but he dropped his stun rod as he tried to break free.

Kalden retrieved the weapon a second later, then he cranked up the power, held the barrel to the man’s throat, and fired.

The Metal Artist collapsed on the concrete floor, and Kalden rushed over to where Akari lay.

“I’m okay,” she told him. “The blood’s not mine.”

Kalden’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he put his arm behind her head. “We need a healer over here!”

Akari glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Relia with him. Instead, half a dozen Artegium staff members joined their group. She recognized a few of them from campus, like Camila Warder and Sen Goto. The others were strangers.

One of the staff members ran over and examined Akari’s injuries. The others formed a defensive parameter around their group.

“There’s at least one more Artisan down here,” Akari said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Then she lowered her voice and turned back to Kalden. “It’s your brother.”

“What?” Kalden snapped his head up and glanced around. “Was he helping you?”

“He was helping them.”

“No. That can’t be right.”

Akari was in no mood to explain, so she shrugged her shoulders. At least she hadn’t stabbed Sozen in the throat. That would have been a much harder conversation.

The healer gave Akari a mouth guard, then she began cycling restoration mana into her broken arm. Akari bit down on the guard and forced herself to take deep breaths. As always, healing a bone was twice as painful as breaking it.

Suddenly, the temperature plummeted without warning, as if they’d just been tossed into a deep freezer. A chill ran through her body, from the top of her head to the bottoms of her feet.

The healer pulled back her hand, leaving Akari’s arm half-healed. Kalden’s knees buckled, and his stun rod clattered to the floor as he fell. Even Zukan’s weapons died in his hand, turning to wisps of smoke.

The other staff members broke into shivers and folded their arms over their chests. A few were shouting, but she couldn’t make out their exact words.

Akari’s fingers and toes grew numb, and her skin stiffened like plastic. Every breath was a struggle as her lungs fought to process the icy air.

Ice mana crept over the floors, covering everything in a web of pale crystal. Frozen vines coiled around their bodies, and hundreds of razor-sharp icicles grew from the vines.

Talek. No Artisan could do this.

Her fears were confirmed when another masked man strode into the hall. Unlike the others, he wore a robe of dark violet and a hood that shielded his eyes. Akari couldn’t see much more through her frosted glasses. Even so, she recognized the weight of a Master’s power.

Dansin Roth had found them.