A wall of shields rolled in to crush him. He went low, dagger biting sparks off the floor as he slid. A Knight stomped for his chest. He hooked the ankle with the dagger's guard, twisted hard, and toppled it. Before it hit stone he was upright again, palm to its knee seam. A downward snap of his wrist blew the joint out from within. He heaved the hollow limb into the next rank. It clipped a sword arm, opening a sliver, and that was enough. A straight thrust of pure mana, no chant and no flourish, threaded the gap and unwove the center Knight from inside his cuirass.
The squad tried to adapt. Their footwork recalibrated. Thrusts came in staggered timings to break his counters. Blades varied height and angles. Shields stopped ramming and began cutting.
Xavier laughed under his breath and changed with them.
