Felix didn't know that the one-mile sensing limit would barely give him any warning in advance.

After turning a corner, he stopped in place. He had already sensed someone nearby. Sure enough, just around the bend, he spotted a young man crouching on the roof of a stone house not far away, a mocking smile plastered across his face.

"Well, well. Look who it is. I never thought I'd run into Felix Zeller, the famous tournament favorite," the man said.

It was York Liamson. Though his words sounded