The knight does not hum like the lesser constructs. The sound it carried was a low note the stone liked. The spire did not resist it. The spire admitted it.
Xavier came three paces from the foot of the dais and stopped. His left hand opened. Raw mana trembled there, colorless and mean. He did not lift his dagger. He did not bow.
The Knight did not rise. It spoke in metal on air.
"Designation acknowledged. Intruder. Pattern confirmed. Severance practitioner. Raw manipulation anomaly. Assessment complete."
Its helm tilted a fraction. The voice thinned.
"Offer. Lay down all tools. Cede all motive force. The Spire will admit you. You will be made clean."
Xavier's shoulders rose and fell once. His mouth crooked by a degree.
"No."
The Knight rose. Plates unlatched and rested back into place as if it had been forged standing and advised later to sit. It lifted the greatsword. Two parallel lines lit along the fuller with a crackling field. The air sharpened.
