Elias was already moving before Daveon threw the spear.
He had felt the atmosphere shift from the main line's center, the same moment every other student on the field had felt it, and his field awareness had updated his mental map instantly.
A new presence on eastern corridor, grade that the map's sensitivity refused to assign a comfortable number to, direction and pace that put it in contact with the corridor's current occupants in seconds.
He had started moving before the map finished the update.
The distance between the main line's center and the corridor mouth was not a short one. The field was wide. Even at the pace he was running — and he was not managing his pace. He was not conserving anything, running at the full committed speed that two hours of sustained engagement had left available — the corridor was not close.
He was ahead of everyone else on the field.
