The guardian moved.
The shift was immediate and unmistakable, a subtle tightening in the air that Noel felt before he consciously processed the motion itself. Mana flowed through the Shard Warden with a control that was neither excessive nor restrained, but perfectly measured, circulating through its frame in a constant, even rhythm that spoke of long refinement rather than brute force. This was not something animated by instinct or bound to a single directive. It was aware of its output. It adjusted in real time.
Noel's grip on Revenant Fang tightened.
'…Same level as me,' he realized, the conclusion forming without effort.
There was no clear advantage to seize. No opening gifted by arrogance or flawed construction. The pressure pressing back against his senses was familiar in the worst possible way, mirroring his own core closely enough that it made his stomach tighten.
"So that's how it is," Noel said quietly. "Equal ground."
He moved first.
