She tilted her head slightly, walking a few paces forward as Astron struggled to rise, hand pressed to his chest.
"How was it?"
Astron didn’t answer imdiately. He coughed once—wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"...Heavy," he muttered.
But sothing in his expression twisted—not confusion, but a pinched discomfort at the edge of perception. That strike... it felt like it carried sothing more.
Unfamiliar.
Not just a martial echo or a mana strike—but sothing subtly misaligned. As if the frequency of her mana had shifted mid-blow. Not enough to analyze. Not enough to identify. Just enough to make his instincts crawl.
Dakota noticed.
She watched his eyes for a mont longer before speaking again.
"Sothing bothering you?" she asked, tossing a glowing vial underhand.
—CLINK.
Astron caught it mid-air.
He didn’t respond imdiately, just cracked the seal and drank.
The healing potion flushed through him, working fast. Bones groaned back into place. Breath returned.
Still, he was silent.
Dakota walked forward, hands slipping into the pockets of her training coat now slung over her shoulder.
Then she stopped beside him.
Dakota exhaled slowly, the sharp edge of her earlier stance now folded into sothing quieter—asured, introspective. She turned her head slightly, glancing down at Astron as he pushed himself up onto one knee.
"From what I’ve heard," she murmured, "you won’t be stationed here long."
Her gaze didn’t waver.
"That’s why I showed you that."
Astron looked up.
Dakota’s eyes glead—not with pride or mockery, but with sothing rawer. More personal.
"Yes. Since you’re a monster when it cos to learning..." Her lips curled into a wry smirk, "Why not use that monstrosity of yours?"
She took a step forward, stopping just beside him—her presence no longer towering, but anchoring.
"Rember this mont," she said, her voice lower now, almost a whisper. "That strike. That technique. [Serpent Echo] is just the surface."
She tapped two fingers against his shoulder—gently, but deliberately.
"Try to make sothing from it. Knowing you..." Her tone sharpened, faint with amusent, "...it won’t take you long to crack it open."
Then she smiled—not the formal, composed one, but the kind that left a shadow of fire in its wake.
"I’ll be waiting."
Astron held her gaze.
And in that instant, he saw it.
Not the ntor.
Not the composed overseer from Sector B11.
But the Awakened from the borders, forged in survival. The soldier who’d lost her teammates in the Riftlines. The fighter who buried her past in muscle mory and silence.
But now—he saw sothing stirring.
Sothing she’d locked away for a long ti.
A fire.
It flickered behind her eyes—not the restrained discipline of an instructor, but the glint of soone who had just rembered she loved the fight. Not out of duty.
But out of thrill.
So she’s not just training Adepts anymore...
Astron’s eyes scanned her body with instinctual precision—the slight tightness in her fists, the twitch of a muscle still charged with mana, the sharpness in her breath not from fatigue, but exhilaration.
She wasn’t cooling down.
She was winding up.
Sothing inside her had awoken.
And though she didn’t say it aloud, Astron understood.
Astron’s chest rose once—slow, steady—as the last of the healing potion settled into his bloodstream.
The pain was gone.
But the echo of her strike still lingered.
Not in the ribs. Not in the bones.
In the mory.
A strike like that wasn’t sothing the body forgot.
It was sothing the instincts filed away—for future judgnt.
His gaze flicked up to Dakota again.
Her fra was still relaxed. But everything about her stood prid. The set of her jaw, the slant of her shoulders, the way her heels rooted to the ground as if the arena had beco part of her. It wasn’t a stance anymore. It was intent. Sharpened. Reclaid.
Astron exhaled once through his nose.
A quiet snort.
Amused. Dry.
Then—without standing yet, still crouched on one knee—he spoke.
"We’ll see about that."
Dakota tilted her head, smirk sharpening. "There it is."
She stepped back with a slow stretch, rolling one shoulder until it cracked. The fabric of her coat creaked faintly with the motion.
Then—quietly—she shifted her weight to one side and spoke without facing him.
"You’re here for those gates, aren’t you?"
The question wasn’t loud.
Wasn’t accusatory.
Just real.
Clear.
The kind of statent made not as an interrogation—but as an acknowledgnt. From one fighter to another.
Astron’s expression didn’t change. Not outwardly.
But behind his eyes, his thoughts stirred.
So she knows.
It made sense. She was quite high ranked in the Organization after all.
Dakota didn’t look at him—her eyes were now on the far side of the training chamber, where light poured faintly in from the glyph-paneled vents near the ceiling. But her voice carried all the sa.
"Only cadets are getting in, right?" Dakota said, her gaze still distant—watching the far wall, as if her thoughts were sowhere beyond the chamber’s borders.
Then her voice shifted—lower, quieter, but grounded with aning.
"...The ones I’ve been training—they’ll be among them too."
She exhaled once, the breath controlled. "Figured as much when I saw the lists forming. But now that you’ve returned..."
She glanced over her shoulder, one brow raised, just enough to make the rest clear.
"...I understand the timing."
Astron t her gaze, silent for a mont.
Then—he nodded.
"How many of the trainees are going?" he asked, voice even.
Dakota shook her head slowly, straightening her posture. "No idea. The final count hasn’t been confird yet."
She rolled her neck, then crossed her arms again. "That decision’s on Reina. She’s the one doing the allocations."
Astron’s expression didn’t shift, but his eyes narrowed slightly at the ntion.
"...She’s still not back?"
"Apparently busy." Dakota’s lips twisted slightly. "Dealing with external transfers and clearance reports. Sothing about a closed-channel incident near Riftline West."
Astron’s gaze dropped for a beat. Then he stood.
Fully this ti.
No stagger. No wince. The potion had done its job, but the ache of that final blow remained—burning more in instinct than flesh.
"I’m waiting on Reina too," he said.
Dakota’s brow lifted a fraction. "That so?"
He gave a slight nod. "My clearance, deploynt slate... everything’s frozen until she signs off. That, and—" he paused, "—there are so things only she can authorize."
Dakota humd softly under her breath. It wasn’t agreent. It wasn’t dismissal. It was the sound of soone filing away information for later.
Dakota’s lips quirked into a faint smile at Astron’s words, the kind that settled between amusent and quiet understanding.
"Of course," she murmured. "Reina would be the one holding your leash."
She turned just slightly, eyes narrowing with sothing almost nostalgic.
"She’s always been particular with her projects."
Astron didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
They both knew Reina wasn’t the type to waste her ti on soone unless there was sothing worth investing in.
But before either of them could say more—
—BEEP—BEEP.
A sharp, pulsing chi buzzed against Astron’s wrist.
He glanced down.
His watch interface flared briefly—Reina’s ID signature glowing across the display in tight, golden runes. Encrypted. Direct.
Dakota let out a low, short breath through her nose, then tilted her head with a smirk.
"Well," she said dryly, "speak of the devil."
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