The Final Cut

Arthur reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the smooth handle of his carving knife before pulling it free. As he turned toward the beastcore, the embedded dual beastcores in the hilt caught the light, their glow shifting subtly.

Duxor's gaze snapped to the knife. He recognized craftsmanship when he saw it. But before he could comment, Arthur's cyan eyes flickered over the barrier's inscriptions, and his lips curled in a slight frown.

"Mistakes, mistakes…" He muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Didn't think you'd lock down the expansion this much." His tone was even, but the critique was unmistakable. He traced a finger through the air, hovering just above the layers of runes. "Some of these restraints are pointless. They'll just get in the way of the rainfolk's craft."

Duxor stiffened.