Cruzer steadied his breathing, the rush of void energy coursing through his veins unlike anything he had ever felt before. His body, once bound by the limits of speed, reflexes, and even void phasing, now felt completely unshackled, as if he were no longer moving through the battlefield but instead deciding the terms of reality itself.
Vael, still examining the thin line of void-blood dripping from his arm, let out a quiet chuckle, his smirk returning, though this time, there was no amusement—only acknowledgment. "Now you're learning," he mused, rolling his shoulder as the wound vanished, sealed away as if it had never been inflicted in the first place.
Cruzer exhaled slowly, the weight of his last attack settling over him, not as exhaustion, but as realization. He had surpassed the concept of mere movement. He had erased the outcome in which he failed. And yet—Vael had still avoided a fatal strike.
Which meant…
I'm still a step behind.
