Werf exhaled slowly, stepping forward as Jil moved aside, shaking the snow from her hair. The cold wind howled around them, but he barely noticed. His heart pounded, and his muscles coiled, ready.
Hild rolled her shoulders, giving Werf a challenging smirk. "Show me what you've got."
Werf didn't hesitate. He rushed forward, fists raised, his stance sharp and compact. His movements mimicked a boxer's, weaving side to side with small, calculated steps. He feinted a left jab before snapping a right hook toward Hild's ribs.
Hild easily blocked it, but Werf was already shifting. His body twisted mid-motion, bringing up his knee, seamlessly transitioning into a Muay Thai strike.
The knee came high and fast, but Hild pivoted, letting the blow sail just inches from her ribs.
She raised an eyebrow. "Switching styles already?"
Werf smirked, stepping back before launching a teep kick, his foot shooting forward with the intent to create space. Hild barely shifted her weight to absorb the impact, but before she could counter, Werf's stance changed again.
His footing became wider, his hands pulled back slightly—Karate. He moved in, sending a precise, sharp knife-hand strike toward Hild's shoulder, forcing her to block. The second his attack was stopped, he spun, his leg arcing gracefully into a roundhouse kick.
Hild caught his ankle, stopping the blow before it landed. "Impressive adaptability," she mused before yanking him off balance.
Werf rolled with the motion, twisting his body mid-fall. Instead of crashing into the snow, he used the momentum, planting a hand down and flipping onto his feet, immediately shifting into kickboxing.
A swift low kick shot toward Hild's leg, aiming to destabilize her. She stepped back, but Werf was already closing the gap, elbows raised.
His strikes were unrefined, but he didn't rely on just one discipline—when one failed, he immediately switched.
Hild finally attacked. She stepped forward, throwing a quick jab aimed at Werf's head.
Instead of dodging conventionally, he ducked into a deep crouch, switching into a taekwondo stance before launching a sudden spinning heel kick aimed at her head.
Hild leaned back, narrowly avoiding the blow. The kick sliced through the air with precision, a testament to Werf's growing control. But before his leg even touched the ground, his stance changed again—this time, mixed martial arts.
Using his forward momentum, Werf lunged at Hild, attempting a takedown. His arms locked around her waist, pushing with all his strength.
For the first time, Hild's feet slid slightly across the snow.
Jil's eyes widened. "He's actually—"
But Hild countered, twisting her hips and shoving Werf down, using his force against him. He rolled with the throw, quickly getting back on his feet, panting but grinning.
Hild's eyes flickered with something rare—pride.
She had spent months teaching them the fundamentals, watching them stumble, fall, and get back up again. And now, here was Werf—adapting, evolving, using everything she had taught him.
He wasn't perfect, but that was what made him dangerous. He was still growing, still changing.
"You're unpredictable," Hild admitted, brushing snow from her sleeve. "You don't just use one style—you combine them. Your adaptability is your biggest strength."
Werf smirked. "Figured if I can't master one, I might as well use them all."
Hild chuckled. "Then let's see how well you can keep up."
She rushed forward this time, faster than before. Werf barely had time to react before she was inside his guard.
He switched to a defensive boxing stance, absorbing the first hit against his arms before shifting into Muay Thai, raising his shin to block the next kick.
The two continued exchanging blows, Werf shifting between styles with every movement, compensating for weaknesses with another technique. His transitions were still clumsy, but his creativity made him difficult to predict.
Hild could feel it—Werf wasn't just switching styles; he was blending them. Where one movement ended, another began.
His karate strikes led into Muay Thai knees, which transitioned into a kickboxing elbow. He was a fighter who refused to be caged into a single discipline.
But he was still young.
Finally, Hild feinted a punch before vanishing from his vision.
He barely had time to shift his footing before he felt her grab his arm, using his momentum to flip him over her shoulder.
He crashed into the snow, staring up at the sky, panting.
Hild grinned down at him. "You're still rough. But you're getting there."
Werf groaned. "I almost had you."
Jil laughed from the side. "Not even close."
Hild extended a hand, pulling him up. "If you refine your transitions, you'll be terrifying to fight against. Keep working on it."
Werf nodded, brushing the snow from his hair. Tomorrow was their birthday, but today, he knew how far he'd come.