"Damn it! Where did this archmage come from? I didn't sense a thing!"
Draven cursed as he darted frantically through the devastation.
This kind of relentless air-to-ground barrage had to be magical in nature—and to wield such suppressive power, the caster's level had to be high.
Draven, therefore, assumed it must be a powerful archmage.
But as an assassin, his senses were keen—he hadn't felt a trace of any archmage's mana signature. The swarm above? He had no time to look up and see what they were. Any distraction would get him riddled with holes.
Soon, Draven realized that this "archmage's" attacks had no discernible pattern—they weren't even trying to predict his next move, just unleashing indiscriminate firepower.
If there were ten trees ahead and he dove behind the seventh, his attacker wouldn't try to pinpoint which one he'd chosen—they'd simply blast all ten to splinters.
