Arthur's boots hit the metallic floor with a muted thud, his landing deliberate, practised. His face carried an expression of cool bravado, though the faint glisten on his forehead betrayed him. His A.A.S. suit hummed, flickering with faint lines of light as it calibrated.
"Arthur Kammabuki, thirty-eight per cent," the system's voice rang out.
Arthur exhaled sharply. Thirty-eight, enough to spar with the rookies in his squad, maybe even best a commander on a good day. But standing across from him was her. Akio stretched lazily, rolling her shoulders with a casual smirk that made his skin crawl. She wasn't even armed. No suit. No sword. Just herself.
Arthur tightened his grip on his hilt. His dream wasn't simply to prove his worth; it was to claw his way into her inner circle, the elite guardians who shadowed Akio wherever she went. That thought alone made his pulse quicken, a cocktail of nerves and ambition boiling under his skin.
