The prototype moved like he remembered like he moved but faster. More efficient. No wasted motion. Like every twitch had been tuned to precision by someone who didn’t give a damn about humanity. The blade in his hand hummed softly, the edge vibrating with tech Noa couldn’t even identify.

Noa didn’t speak.

He just charged.

Their blades clashed, metal against metal, the sound sharp enough to tear silence in half. Sparks sprayed between them as they grappled, kicked, twisted. The prototype ...