Boom!
With a sound like tearing canvas, reality twisted violently above the obsidian war table.
CRASH.
Four bodies plummeted from the distortion, slamming onto the hard stone table and rolling onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and weaponry.
"Ugh..." Lukas groaned, dry-heaving as he hit the ground. His new gauntlets were smoking, radiating waves of heat that smelled of ozone and burnt sand.
Alaric landed heavily, the massive Anvil clattering across the floor with a deafening clang. Elena tumbled next to him, coughing up desert grit.
While Lyra just stood calmly coming out of Alfred's teleport
Unfortunately, different from her, the students looked like they had been chewed up and spat out by a hurricane.
Not only that, but in their center Alfred's figure landed perfectly.
Touching down with the grace of a falling feather. He stood upright, adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, and brushed a singular speck of dust from the lapel of his tailcoat.
