The training field was marked by shallow craters, cracks, and impact marks scattered across the ground like recent scars, silent witnesses to previous battles that, like this one, mixed real intensity with something far more intimate. The wind blew lightly, raising particles of dust that floated in the air, and at the center of it all, two figures moved with precision and speed, exchanging blows that, to any other observer, would be deadly—but there, they also carried an almost… familiar rhythm.
Cassandra advanced first, as she always did when she was angry, her movements quick and direct, without hesitation, without flourish, each step carrying clear intent. Her fist cut the air toward Strax's face with enough force to break bones, but he tilted his body at the last second, dodging with an ease that only increased her frustration. The impact that didn't happen still reverberated in the air, as if the atmosphere itself recognized the force contained in that attack.
