They came out of the trees in pairs and threes.
Vane understood inside the first four seconds that they had been built for this.
Not built to win.
Built to hold.
Three came for him.
Mid Experts, all of them.
At close range, the Usurper resolved their Authorities quickly enough.
A lock-effect.
A weight-effect.
Something that thickened the air around his hands until every movement wanted to arrive half a beat late.
None of the three were anywhere near his level individually.
That was irrelevant.
They spread around him in a triangle.
The moment Vane committed toward one, the other two closed behind him.
When he turned on those, the first had already retreated outside clean reach.
No wasted motion.
No attempt to dominate.
Just pressure.
Containment.
Time.
Vane brought the wings up.
Blade-formations rose from his shoulders and answered intent without delay.
He cut once.
The nearest cadre member caught the severance across his forearm guard and dropped to one knee.
