I DESTROY THE LAW'S OF HEAVEN

THE HUNT BEGINS

Running from a god on wings was a fool's errand.

Thorn sprinted through the dense, jagged trees of the outer wilderness, his boots slamming hard against the uneven soil. Above the thick canopy, a bright trail of golden light tore through the clouds, cutting down tall pine trees like dry grass.

"You cannot hide from the sky, little rat!" Elder Vane’s voice thundered from above, vibrating the dirt beneath Thorn’s feet. "Every breath you take leaves a trail of corrupt magic in the air!"

Thorn did not look up. He kept his head down, breathing heavily through his nose as he darted between massive stone boulders. His body burned from the strain of the landslide, and his right hand remained cold and numb.

"He is closing in fast," Lyra’s sharp voice echoed in his mind. "A high-master can cross three leagues in a single heartbeat while flying. Your legs will fail long before his energy runs dry."

"I am not trying to outrun him," Thorn grunted, leaping over a fallen log and skidding down a steep dirt slope into a dark, narrow canyon.

"Then what are you doing?" Lyra demanded. "If he catches you in the open, he will turn your flesh to ash before you can even raise your hand!"

"He thinks in straight lines," Thorn muttered, wiping blood from his bottom lip. "Cultivators always think raw power solves everything."

The canyon walls towered fifty feet above him, made of solid, dark slate that blocked out the afternoon sun. The path was narrow, barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast. It was a perfect killing box, a place with no exits and nowhere to dodge.

Thorn stopped right in the center of the narrow pass. He sank to his knees, pressing both palms flat against the cold slate walls on either side of him.

"You are out of power, boy!" Lyra warned, her voice growing tense. "If you push the stone again without rest, your heart will stop!"

"Then it stops," Thorn said, his voice completely flat.

He closed his eyes and pulled every remaining drop of dark energy out of the stone in his chest. He did not target the rock. He did not target the air. Using his new technique, he wove the black threads deep into the very spatial rules of the narrow canyon.

He unmade the concept of direction.

Inside the canyon walls, forward no longer meant forward, and backward no longer meant backward. The space between the two slate cliffs twisted into an invisible, infinite loop, hiding behind the illusion of normal stone.

Thorn collapsed backward onto the dirt, coughing up a spatter of dark blood. His skin grew deathly pale, and his right arm turned pitch black up to the elbow, crystalline and frozen.

"It is done," Thorn whispered, leaning his head against the cold cliff face.

"You are insane," Lyra muttered, though a faint note of awe crept into her ghostly tone. "You turned a simple rock pass into a spatial nightmare."

A loud, screeching sound echoed from the sky above the canyon. The clouds split open, and a blazing sun of golden light descended at blinding speed.

Elder Vane dropped into the narrow canyon like a falling star, his golden sword extended straight out. His face was twisted with pure, murderous intent, his white robes billowing in the sudden windstorm caused by his sheer speed.

"Found you!" Vane roared, his voice booming off the slate walls. "Die!"

Vane surged forward at top speed, his golden blade aimed directly at Thorn’s chest. He moved faster than a flying arrow, locked onto his target with absolute certainty.

Thorn did not move a muscle. He did not even blink. He just sat in the dirt, watching the golden light rush toward his eyes.

"Why are you not dodging?" Vane sneered, his blade just inches from Thorn's throat. "Have you given up, rat?"

The moment Vane crossed the invisible boundary line in the canyon air, the spatial loop triggered.

The world did not flash. Space did not tear open with a loud bang. The golden light simply folded in on itself like a bent sheet of paper.

Vane felt a sudden, sickening shift in his chest. The air in front of him vanished, replaced instantly by the back of his own white robes. He did not hit Thorn. Instead, his top-speed charge carried him straight through the loop, aiming his own lethal attack directly at his own spine.

"What?" Vane gasped, his eyes widening in sudden horror.

He tried to stop his movement, but his momentum was far too great. He was moving at full speed, propelled by his own immense cultivation power, and there was no friction or distance left to slow him down.

Vane’s golden blade punched straight through his own lower back, driving deep into his ribs and popping out through his chest in a spray of bright red blood.

"Argh!" Vane shrieked, his golden light instantly shattering into a thousand useless sparks.

The shock of his own sword stabbing through his heart knocked Vane out of the air. He slammed face-first into the dusty floor of the canyon, skidding along the dirt until he stopped right at Thorn’s boots.

The powerful High-Master lay in the mud, gasping for air, blood pooling quickly beneath his pristine white robes. He coughed violently, clutching his bleeding chest with trembling fingers as he looked up in complete disbelief.

"How?" Vane choked out, his golden eyes filled with terror and confusion. "What did you do to space? What kind of evil art is this?"

Thorn slowly pushed himself up from the ground, leaning heavily against the dark slate wall. He looked down at the bleeding master with cold, empty eyes, his pitch-black arm humming with a faint, deadly chill.

"You flew too fast," Thorn said softly, taking one slow, heavy step forward. "You should have looked where you were going."

"You monster," Vane wheezed, blood spilling over his lips as he tried to raise a hand to cast another spell. "The divine overseers will never let you live. You cannot fight the whole world!"

"I am not fighting the world," Thorn grunted, standing over Vane's broken body. "I am just trying to survive the day."

Lyra’s laughter rang out inside Thorn's head, sharp and delighted. "Finish him, boy! Take his head before his soul escapes!"

Thorn raised his blackened right hand, hovering his crystalline fingers right above Elder Vane’s forehead.

Vane stared up at the dead blue eyes of the boy above him, realizing for the first time that there was no mercy, no fear, and no humanity left inside the youth standing in the canyon dark.

"Wait," Vane whispered, his voice trembling with real terror. "Please."

Thorn did not answer. He simply brought his hand down.