The atmosphere in the Sovereign Hold had shifted.
More guards. More silence. Every pulse station hummed a little faster. And Leon—usually calm, even in pressure—was speaking less and watching more.
Aris stood in the training chamber, baton in hand, as Kael adjusted a rotating tempo anchor nearby.
"You're letting your mind jump ahead again," he said.
Aris blinked, pulled back into focus. "Sorry."
"Don't be," Kael said. "Just fix it. Worrying about the next fight won't help you win it."
She nodded and resumed her stance.
This time, her strikes were sharper. More grounded. Even without tempo backing her, she moved with control. Every motion was precise. Calculated. Like she wasn't trying to perform a rhythm—but just be one.
Kael smiled faintly.
"She's getting close," he muttered to himself.
Elsewhere, near the archive halls of Floor 307, a new figure passed through the gates unnoticed.
Not tall. Not strange. Just another face.
