And when he launched his next attack—a jagged pulse of black rhythm that shattered the space between them—she moved.
Not perfectly.
But fast.
She ducked, rolled, and slammed her baton into the ground.
A shockwave burst outward, forming a dome of white-blue light that blocked the King's rhythm completely. The floor beneath her lit up with glowing symbols.
Not Tower glyphs.
Not Sovereign marks.
Something new.
Leon's eyes widened. "You just wrote a tempo field."
Roman muttered, "That's not possible. She doesn't even know how."
Aris looked at her baton. "I didn't think. I just… did what felt right."
The King finally moved.
He stepped forward.
Aris stepped to meet him.
They clashed—pulse against pulse.
He struck with sharp, broken tempo, trying to erase her rhythm.
She blocked, twisted, and responded with simple, solid beats. Clean moves. Nothing fancy.
Just strong.
Real.
Each clash echoed louder. Until the Tower itself responded:
