The next shot whizzed just past his head, only missing because Artyom tilted out of the way the instant before it would've hit.

And the one after came even faster, but the man was already running.

Soon, more and more of the turrets began firing, first slowly but soon picking up speed, until the space in front of the library was saturated with more magic than air. The only reasonable way to avoid getting hit in such a situation was a strong enough shield.

Well, for anyone besides Artyom.

The searing flashes imparted by each shot, the caustic sound that echoed as they whizzed past his ears, the smell of ozone in their wake; speed alone wasn't enough to avoid getting hit in a situation like this. Years of battlefield experience, remaining calm when death literally rained from the sky and destructive magic filled the very air, was the other half of what kept Artyom from being hit.

The three students watched in awe as their substitute teacher blurred through the magical barrage. He never remained a cohesive shape in their vision, always a vague outline they could only see at most part of. Blinking meant losing track of him.

Even through it all, Artyom had plenty of focus to spare, and countered with his own offensive magic. But his gravity lance was quickly eaten up by the sheer number of opposing attacks it collided with on its path.

But Artyom wasn't deterred by this, as he continued his manic dance while slowly gliding towards the turrets. It didn't take long for him to reach the closest one; Artyom grabbed its nozzle and jumped over it, planting his feet on the back of the structure and pulling with all his might.

The other turrets stopped for a moment, seemingly hesitating upon realizing one of their own was now in the path of their shots.

It gave him enough time to activate an even more potent strength spell and PULL. He expected something to give, either the barrel, the turret itself, or his own body with the inhuman force being put into it.

But instead, the turret began to glow. Not the whole thing, but a series of strange characters just on its surface.

Artyom's eyes widened and he immediately let go before running to the back of the room as the turrets began firing again.

"I recognize those symbols, this is rune magic!" he thought to himself in a mix of fright and excitement. "Maybe whoever built these also created the summoning ritual that brought Tommy here?"

But his manic smile quickly faded, replaced with a frown that only widened as his heart skipped a beat in sheer terror.

"No, this isn't right. Rune magic is supposed to be used for portals, that's all it can be used for! So what the hell is going on here?!" he shouted in his mind. "Those symbols appeared only when I tried to break the turret, so maybe it's a kind of shield? But rune magic isn't supposed to work like that, and definitely not as a shield! Besides, it's way too expensive to stick on a couple of small turrets."

And that was another truth about rune magic; it was expensive. The symbols that made up a runic matrix, the equivalent of a spell, had to be drawn with something valuable. Precious metals and gemstones were the most common, ground into a fine dust and suspended in a gel paint, or melted and cast into the shapes needed.

While rarer materials could be used to strengthen the magical effects, there was a little bit of a tradeoff: they would be consumed on use. So if you didn't want to go broke, you had to budget how much you used rune magic. Or you could use stronger tiered runes which give more bang for their buck.

But judging by the glow of the runes on the turrets, Artyom could tell the runes they were using weren't all that high leveled at all. So if whoever set up these defenses didn't want to exhaust their treasury on defending a student library when there was a room dedicated to soldiers just next door, they probably cut some corners.

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"Such as the shielding covering as little area as possible, and most definitely not that far past where they're attached to the floor!" Artyom shouted to himself as he rushed back into the fray.

More blasts were expertly dodged as he gave his mechanical aggressors a repeat performance. But rather than jumping on the head and trying to bend the barrel, he ran past all the turrets which had trouble keeping up with him while so close, and stopped behind the furthest one. Artyom grabbed it just below the turret and began to lift upwards with all his strength.

At first all was silent. Even the turrets stopped firing, somehow realizing their attacks would most certainly strike one of their own. Then Artyom grunted, and so too did metal, as the furthest turret slowly lifted off the ground by an inch. And then another. Slowly the waist-tall structure was brought to almost head-height, with only a thick metal pole keeping it from toppling over.

"Is this thing not even nailed down?" he asked aloud. "I could just tilt this thing over and that would be-"

Artyom was interrupted by a lone shot fired from a turret at the opposite side of the room. It was a sudden attack he wasn't prepared for, only because the one he was lifting blocked his view of the other turret for only an instant. That instant was all it needed to strike him in the arm and force him to drop it in a scream of pain.

"Artyom!" The three students shouted in unison as their substitute teacher dropped into a roll and ran back towards the entrance of the room, as far away from the turrets as possible.

"I'm fine!" he shouted back half-confidently.

That sneak attack hurt! But… that was a good thing. Even with adrenaline coursing through his veins, if he could feel the site of the impact, that meant there was still flesh and bone present to do said feeling.

Artyom lifted up the sleeve of his armor and looked at the injury. All he saw was a forming splotch of purple, and the ever-familiar glow of runic power.

"So the attacks use rune magic as well? And my arm is still in one piece, which means they're pretty weak. However it completely bypassed my enchanted armor, but not the personal defensive spells that strengthen my body. Wait, that's it!"

"C-can we do anything to help?" asked Gula, poking his head up by several inches as he spoke.

One of the nearby turrets began to turn towards him, and Cane pushed him back down. It thankfully turned back towards its original target a moment later.

"I think I have a plan," replied Artyom, his manic grin returned. "Just wait there another minute."

The three students looked on with trepidation at the next masterful plan they would be witness to. Maybe Artyom would take advantage of a newly found weak point, or he discovered a means to neutralize the attack after being hit with it only once? He…began to run away.

Artyom took a short hop backwards, and followed that up with another, deftly avoiding the latest barrage of weapon's fire while carrying himself to the very back of the room and out the doorway.

As he stepped across the library threshold, the turrets stopped firing.

"Wait, that's it?" asked Broc, raising up to their knees before Cane tackled them back to the ground.

"Stay down!" she said in a muffled shout. "Don't you see that the turrets are still up? Are you trying to make yourself a target?!"

And to prove her right, as soon as Artyom stepped back into the room, the turrets began firing once more.

Only to stop as he immediately took another step out.

"Huh," said Gula.

Another step in, and another back out and around the corner before the shots could reach him.

"Just like that?" asked Broc.

This time, Artyom stuck his hand in to the same effect, and lazily withdrew before the shots could even get close.

"M-maybe," replied Cane. "But it's still dangerous! We should stay put until he clears it."

"Alright, but how long is that going to be?" asked Gula.

The trio remained silent for about a minute as Artyom continued to bait the turrets.

"Maybe he's still thinking up a plan?" asked Broc.

After another few minutes, Cane's eye began to twitch and she shouted, "Hey Artyom, do you even have a plan?!"

"Yeah!" he shouted back. "The turrets run on rune magic, and the stuff that powers it will run out!"

"And how long will that take?"

"I dunno, it depends on how much fuel they've stuck inside the turrets, but it's probably not that much."

Cane let out a low sigh, and slowly got up. She dusted off her pants and walked over to the nearest bookshelf, pulling out a random tome and then finding a seat on a nearby table.

"Cane! What are you doing?!" shouted Broc. "The turrets-"

"Are you going to join me or not?" she asked, looking at the others.

Broc and Gula exchanged a glance, then slowly got up and followed her lead.

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