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Power rippled under Kael's night-black skin; tight muscle bunched, then detonated through his fist.
Crack!
He drove off the polished boards so hard a web of fractures bloomed beneath his heel.
Wind burst outward, flinging splinters across the hall as his dark figure blitzed forward pure acceleration, pure intent.
The thunder of his charge filled the room.
A black-iron fist punched a hole through the air, rocketing straight for Lucario's jaw.
Lucario's orange eyes narrowed in surprise, flickering, then gone.
"So he's that strong…"
He'd questioned why Haus would waste time greeting a "new arrival" himself.
The stinging wind across his cheek erased the doubt.
"Interesting."
Even holding back, Lucario still outclassed a basic-stage Machop by miles.
Blue threads of [Aura] pulsed and pushed an invisible palm redirecting his body a half step.
BOOM—
Kael's strike obliterated the floorboards beside Lucario instead, splinters geysering upward.
He felt the empty recoil through his knuckles.
No panic. No pause.
He planted a palm, killed his momentum, and converted the rebound into lift.
Red-brown fighting spirit flared along his tibia as his hips snapped—
[Low Sweep]!
Whip—
His shin scythed across only to meet something like steel.
CLANG!
Pain flashed up his leg. A metallic sheen had wrapped Lucario's limb.
[Iron Defense].
Not worth forcing. Kael retracted cleanly—
—and every instinct screamed danger.
Arms crossed, fighting aura skimming across his forearms as Lucario's palm rose.
[Force Palm]!
Aura surged, coiling like twin serpents along his arm before detonating.
THUUM—
It hit like a truck. Kael smashed back into the far wall, white plaster spider-webbing from the impact. Dust and wood motes hung in the air.
He spat red, eyes locked on the calm figure across the floor.
The pain didn't cool him it lit the fuse.
In the corner, Haus watched, arms folded, gaze burning.
"Power way beyond a normal Machop… reads the field fast… reflexes like a veteran… and fights like he's been doing this for decades."
His grin broke free. "This one's special."
He was already sketching training regimens in his head.
But another thought pressed in:
Would the Machop keep swinging?
Lucario's strength was a canyon away from his own. Most would wilt.
A real fighter throws anyway.
Laughter burst out of Haus loud, unrestrained, cutting the tension like a blade.
Even Lucario's stoic face twitched with a flicker of amusement.
Kael ignored the theatrics. He forced his breathing steady, mind cold, eyes bright.
He wouldn't win by trading. He needed angles. Layers. Movement.
His decision clicked into place.
"[Focus Energy]."
Hands met before his chest; pinpricks of pale light flickered into being around him like stars beginning to glow.
Lucario didn't wait.
Respect given is pressure applied. He blurred forward, a dark-blue streak knifing across the floor—
—and Kael let the stellar motes unravel, the "charge" dissolving mid-cast.
No frustration. No panic.
Just the smallest curl at the corner of his mouth.
Exactly as planned.
He snapped low, weight vanishing from his lead foot—
Then reappearing inside Lucario's reach on a razor-thin angle, hips whipping as his fist shot up from below the line of sight—
[Bullet Punch]! (compressed step, minimal telegraph)
Metal sang off bone as the iron-fast jab chased Lucario's chin.
Even as it connected or glanced Kael's other hand was already coming across, shoulder stacking, core firing—
[Brick Break]!
He wasn't trying to overpower Aura.
He was trying to layer his tempo bait the interrupt, steal the beat, and force the fight into ranges where muscle memory ruled.
Lucario's eyes flashed. Aura flexed deflect, absorb, answer—
—and the dojo exploded into motion.
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