Michael vanished again.
This ti, he did not overshoot.
He reappeared at Aeloria's side, feet skimming the ground, body aligned instead of collapsing into montum. His shoulder dipped, his hips turned, and his fist drove forward in a tight arc.
Aeloria dodged on instinct.
The punch missed her torso by a narrow margin and slamd into empty air.
The result was imdiate.
A violent gust erupted outward, ripping through the grey grass and flattening it in a wide fan. The air cracked, sharp and concussive, and Aeloria's body shook as the pressure struck her side. Her robes snapped violently as she was forced to slide back a full step, boots carving shallow grooves into the soil.
Her eyes sharpened.
Michael was already gone.
He reappeared behind her and threw another punch, this one lower, aid where her ribs would have been if she had not moved. She twisted away, letting the strike pass, and the fist smashed into the ground instead.
The earth sank.
Soil burst upward, grass disintegrated, and a shallow crater spread outward as a wave of wind tore past her legs. The shock rattled through her fra, forcing her to brace and shift her stance to keep her balance.
Michael vanished and appeared again at her front.
Aeloria raised her forearm and t the attack halfway.
It struck her guard like a hamr, driving her backward several ters. Her arms trembled as she absorbed the force, and her boots skidded across the ground before she managed to stop herself.
Her breathing remained controlled.
Her posture remained upright.
But her body shook.
Michael did not slow.
He vanished and reappeared in rapid succession.
Aeloria dodged left.
A fist ripped past her shoulder, close enough that the wind peeled strands of hair free and sent them snapping away.
She ducked.
Another punch scread overhead and slamd into the ground behind her, the impact tearing a clean line through the grass and sending dust rolling across the field.
She slid back, pivoted, and moved again as Michael reappeared at her flank.
This ti, she did not fully evade.
The punch passed just short of her ribs, but the compressed air struck her side directly. Her body jolted, and she was forced to stagger two steps before regaining balance.
Her expression tightened.
Michael reappeared again, feet planted, fist already moving.
High above the field, Caelum hovered with his hands clasped behind his back.
As a Rank Four, following what happened on the ground was effortless.
But Michael's movent made even Caelum narrow his eyes.
If Aeloria's body had not been what it was, if her foundation had not been forged through ascension, if her physique had not belonged to a race like the elves with multiple advantages, her dodges would have failed already.
A human from his world would not have had that luxury.
Even a Rank Three human, one who stood above Michael in realm, would have died by now. Their body would have shattered before their mind could catch up.
Beside the field, the Sanctuary supervisor stood without moving, her gaze fixed on the space where Michael kept appearing and disappearing. Her expression remained composed, but her focus tightened more and more as the seconds passed.
There was no confusion in her eyes now.
Only a hard, quiet shock.
During his treatnt, she had been unable to see through him, even
at her level and with all her experience. She had known he was extraordinary, but this display went beyond that. Was this truly the performance of a freak of nature?
From his earlier movents, it was obvious he could even go faster than this, but he did not seem used to operating at that level of speed
yet.
Below, the instructors were no longer whispering.
Most of them had stopped breathing properly without realizing it.
Their eyes tried to follow Michael directly, failed, then began tracking the aftermath instead. Even then, many could only guess.
So of the younger elves looked like statues, mouths slightly open, brows furrowed in frustration. Their pride refused to accept what their eyes could not capture.
A few had started using their magic instead of sight. That helped, but
only a little.
It did not make it less humiliating.
They had mocked him earlier, called him a summoner hiding behind
corpses.
Now they watched the royal princess of their realm being driven backward by a human's fists, and most of them could not even see the
fists.
They only saw her shaking.
They only saw her boots sliding.
They only saw the ground ripping apart whenever Michael missed by
a breath.
One instructor clenched his jaw so hard his cheek trembled.
Michael appeared again.
His fist moved.
Aeloria did not dodge and awakened her law.
She lifted her hand, fingers slightly spread, and the air around her
changed.
It was subtle at first.
A scent rose, clean and sharp, like crushed leaves after rain.
Green light threaded across her skin and robes.
Thin vines pushed up through the grey ground.
Aeloria's presence swelled.
Michael's fist stopped mid swing as his body shifted backward in a
blur, space twitching as he forced distance between them.
He reappeared dozens of ters away, feet skidding, shoulders rising
and falling once.
For the first ti in the exchange, his grin faded.
Aeloria straightened slowly.
Her eyes stayed on Michael.
Her voice was calm.
"Now," she said, "show if that speed is all you have."
Michael did not answer.
His eyes narrowed as he reached deeper into the echo, past the
speed amplifier, and touched sothing else that belonged to
Wisdom.
Fold Blink.
The mont the skill settled into his body, the sensation was
different from his earlier bursts.
Michael vanished.
Aeloria's warning flared.
She turned, palm raised, green threads already crawling over her
fingers, and the air around her thickened with living intent.
Michael appeared at her left.
His fist moved. Aeloria did not et it.
She folded away too.
As a Rank Three, just like any other supernatural at that level, she
could use certain spatial abilities such as teleportation. Michael's use of space was more efficient, but thanks to her rank and how deeply she had gone into it, their teleportation was about equal in execution.
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