Ethan flowed through shadows like liquid darkness, his enhanced speed carrying him across open space in the span between heartbeats. The cave's irregular walls provided concealment while the ongoing territorial dispute outside dominated the team's attention.
Eight meters. Six meters. Four meters.
Torres remained focused on his communication equipment, monitoring frequencies for any word from Lord Vance or other operational units. His positioning created a blind spot that Ethan exploited with surgical precision.
Two meters. Perfect angle.
The Low-Gold captain's enhanced senses detected movement at the last possible second. His head began turning toward potential threat—
Too late. But not helpless.
Torres's Low-Gold reflexes activated with desperate efficiency. Enhanced speed carried him sideways while his defensive talent blazed to life, creating a barrier of crystallized air that would deflect most attacks.
