I woke with the spike out of my skull and an undead knight already swinging at my neck. I wanted to respond with my threads, but another more powerful instinct took over, and the world… stopped.
I turned around to see the sword hanging four inches from my neck, held up by nothing at all. My eyes widened a bit as I looked around me and saw a single drop of blue fluid that must have emerged with me from the vat, hanging in the dead air a foot from my face, as if it had been painted.
Drawing in a deep breath, it was then that I felt a pressure, deep in my chest, radiating outward from my Anima Depth. It was not a spell or a skill, but I thought I knew what it was.
This had to be a domain, the power that every Arcanist controlled, and somehow, as I struggled to survive in the loop, I had reached this level.
I turned away from the frozen knight and closed my eyes. The last thing I remembered was standing in the sky and watching the world burn with Sovereigns warring above it.
