The moment I stepped back into stance, something felt different.
Not stronger. Not faster.
Clearer.
The flow Belle had shown me hadn't faded when the lesson ended. It lingered in my muscles, in the way my weight settled naturally into my heels, in how my grip loosened without sacrificing control. My body remembered. It wanted to move.
Belle noticed immediately.
She didn't say anything. She just lifted her scabbard again and shifted her footing by half an inch.
That alone sent a chill through me.
We moved.
The air detonated as we crossed the distance, sound barriers shattering with each step. I pivoted without thinking, sword trailing my movement instead of leading it. Belle's scabbard glanced off my blade, sparks skittering across the arena floor like fireflies.
For the first time, I didn't feel like I was reacting late.
