"Stop."
Dakota stood in the silence for a breath longer than necessary, her palm still raised.
Then—
She smiled.
A real one. Not the teasing curl of lips she often wore during spars, but something sharp and satisfied.
"Really good."
Her voice carried across the chamber, calm yet edged with genuine praise.
"You've integrated [Tempest Fang] into your foundation. It's not just something you use anymore—it's something you are."
Her gaze sharpened.
"And it shows."
Astron lowered his hands slightly, his breath steady, but his eyes didn't drop from hers.
He knew better.
Dakota exhaled—and vanished.
—WHOOSH—THUMP!
She appeared before him in a blur of force, like a bullet tearing through still air—her fist already cocked, her knee rising like a hammer fired from the ground.
It was a textbook sneak attack—perfect timing, silent execution, movement concealed in the lull.
But Astron moved.
—CLANG!
