The first strike didn't come from the front.
It came from everywhere.
Yeshwanth felt the pressure shift a fraction of a second before impact — not enough time to dodge, only enough to know he had already lost the exchange.
Something slammed into his ribs.
Then his back.
Then his legs.
Not simultaneously.
Sequentially.
Too fast.
His body was lifted off the ground and hurled across the domain, stone shattering where he landed. He rolled, breath torn from his lungs, vision blurring.
Before he could rise—
Another blow.
This one precise.
His head snapped sideways, feet leaving the ground again.
He skidded, coughing.
"…Tch."
The Cheetah Guardian stood several meters away.
Or rather—
Stood in three places at once.
Afterimages hovered around its real body, each moving with slightly different timing. Not illusions. Not clones.
Split Transfer Rapid Force.
Real momentum, divided and reassigned faster than perception.
"You are reacting to where I was," the Guardian said calmly.
"That is why you keep being hit."
Yeshwanth pushed himself up, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"…So you're cheating physics."
The Guardian's tail flicked.
"I am using it properly."
The air vanished.
Yeshwanth barely crossed his arms before another impact crushed into him, driving him backward.
His feet dug trenches into the ground.
Still not fast enough.
The Guardian appeared behind him.
A knee drove into his spine.
Pain flared white.
Yeshwanth dropped to one knee.
"Again," the Guardian said.
The Problem
Yeshwanth stayed down.
Not because he couldn't stand.
Because he needed to think.
Speed wasn't the issue.
His reactions weren't slow.
The problem was distribution.
Every strike carried real force, but not from a single vector. The Guardian wasn't overwhelming him with raw speed — it was overloading his prediction.
Yeshwanth exhaled slowly.
"…You're not attacking me."
The Guardian tilted its head slightly.
Yeshwanth continued.
"You're forcing my brain to choose wrong."
Silence.
That was confirmation enough.
Yeshwanth clenched his fist.
"Fine."
He stood.
The lightning answered.
Not explosively.
Not dramatically.
It crept along his veins, controlled, restrained — Speed Dash: Lightning State, activated at a low output.
The Guardian moved instantly.
Three strikes came at once.
Yeshwanth didn't dodge.
He stepped forward.
ExcelOne ignited — not as a boost, but as a rhythm correction.
His sword slid free.
Kishkind Kendo — First Form: Disruption Arc.
The blade didn't aim for the Guardian.
It cut the space between afterimages.
The rhythm broke.
One strike missed.
Another grazed.
The third landed — but weaker.
Yeshwanth skidded back, boots scraping, but stayed upright.
The Guardian stopped.
"Explain," it ordered.
Yeshwanth didn't smile.
"I'm not chasing speed anymore," he said. "I'm interrupting intent."
The Guardian's eyes narrowed.
"Then you will fail."
The pressure changed.
The Guardian stepped forward—
And Yeshwanth activated it.
Psychological Enmity — 2%
The world tilted.
Not visually.
Emotionally.
The Guardian's presence suddenly felt wrong.
Not hostile.
Repulsive.
A faint, invisible pressure pushed against its mind — not enough to dominate, not enough to control.
Enough to hesitate.
The Guardian froze.
For exactly half a second.
Its muscles locked.
"…So you chose it," the Guardian said, voice strained.
Yeshwanth was already moving.
Lightning flared.
ExcelOne synchronized.
Kishkind Kendo followed.
He struck once.
Clean.
The Guardian was thrown back several meters, digging into the ground before stopping.
Silence fell.
The Guardian slowly stood.
Its breath was heavy.
"You understand the risk?" it asked.
Yeshwanth lowered his blade.
"…Yeah."
The Guardian nodded.
"If you exceed that threshold, your enemy will not be stunned."
The air darkened.
"You will be paralyzed instead."
Yeshwanth's grip tightened.
"So I have to master it… without using it."
The Guardian smiled.
Not kindly.
"Now you are learning."
Parallel — The Weight That Does Not Move
Elsewhere, the ground shook.
Tim's arms trembled violently as he pushed against the stone slab pinning him down.
Lucia stood beside him, legs braced, breathing controlled, palms glowing faintly with reinforcement.
Arkan watched from a distance, sweat dripping down his face.
The Rhino Guardian stood unmoving.
"Endurance is not survival," it said.
"It is persistence under certainty."
Tim gritted his teeth. "Pretty sure certainty means we're screwed."
The weight increased.
Lucia's knees bent.
She didn't fall.
She adjusted.
"Tim," she said sharply. "Stop pushing alone."
He inhaled.
Exhaled.
Shifted his force sideways instead of upward.
The pressure stabilized again.
Arkan stepped forward, placing his hand against the slab, adding his own strength.
The ground cracked.
The Rhino Guardian's eyes glowed brighter.
"Again."
Observers
Nila stood at the edge of the platform, hands clasped tightly.
She watched Yeshwanth rise again.
Watched him bleed and adapt.
Watched Tim fall and stand.
Watched Lucia stabilize everyone around her.
"They're fighting for us," she whispered.
Aishu appeared beside her.
Quiet.
Watching.
"…How," Aishu asked, "do you love someone so fragile?"
Nila didn't look away.
"I don't love him for his strength," she said calmly.
She turned.
"I love him for his kindness."
Aishu frowned.
Nila continued.
"A gem isn't found on the surface. It's buried under coal. If you judge by what's visible, you'll miss it."
Aishu's eyes narrowed.
"…And where did you meet this 'gem'?"
Nila smiled faintly.
"At a moment when he had nothing."
She looked back at Yeshwanth.
"And still chose to stand."
Aishu said nothing.
But for the first time—
She didn't look away in disgust.
End Beat
The Cheetah Guardian stepped back.
"Training continues," it said.
"Until your mind moves faster than your body."
Yeshwanth wiped blood from his chin.
"…Bring it."
Far above them all—
Something watched.
And calculated.
The pieces were aligning.
Speed.
Weight.
Will.
And soon—
War.