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> Give up and run myself through with Ronalds' sword.
You sigh in despair, and as the Bensonists' spells build up in power, you draw Ronalds' sword from your hilt, gulp, brace yourself to take your own life, lift it into the air, and pause to think of some cheesy famous last words.
Unfortunatley, it's just at that moment that the Bensonists release their collective Electric Death.
> Fuckit.
And that's when something really interesting happens:
The Electric Death flies toward you in the form of crackling, flashing blue lighting. But it's as you bite your lip and prepare to scream in agony that you realize that the lighting has flown right above your head...and is instead on Ronalds' sword, shaking it around violently.
> ...huh?!
Yep. It's shaking you back and forth so much that it's all you can do to keep on your feet, but not one spark of lightning is touching you.
> Cool, it's like...a lightning rod!
Your powers of scientific deduction are breathtaking. We have a new Einstein among us, folks.
> Wise-ass.
Mmm-hmm. Anyway, Bryce and the Bensonists are all gazing at this spectacle in open-mouthed horror. The Bensonists have used up all their Mana on this high-level spell.
"Fuck!" howls Bryce.
With a tremendous air of defiance you lower your lifesaver, Ronalds' sword, down to your level once again...only to be almost knocked backwards as all the electricity it absorbed shoots out again toward the Bensonists...frying each and every one of them and leaving nothing but a dozen piles of ashes.
> Uh...how does that make ANY sense?
It doesn't.
> Hokay.
"Fickity-fockity-fackity-FUCK!" screams Bryce, louder this time.
> This guy's looney.
Well spotted. Anyway, Bryce, surprisingly, doesn't react much after this; he simply raises his hands into the air, and they start glowing faintly. Nothing else happens except a faint bursting sound echoing all around the room. You glace around.
Uh oh.
From the looks of it, every room in the window seems to have broken. But the shattered glass is floating in the air. Floating as it rearranges itself so all the sharp edges face you.
Three guesses what's coming.
> Dear God.
Well, it comes. Bryce drops his hands, and the glass flies rapidly toward you. And you're currently standing in the middle of the lounge with glass flying toward you from every direction and only seconds to act.
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