Caelan POV:
Morning strips everything down to what matters.
Cold air, solid ground and honest movement. Rhydan moves first, testing distance without announcing it. Good. He’s learned that hesitation costs more than effort. His strike comes clean toward my shoulder, and I let it come close enough to read the intent before shifting, catching his wrist and redirecting the force past me.
He pivots fast, tries again and it’s sharper. Better.
I step inside his guard deliberately, not rushing but choosing the moment and making him adjust to it. My elbow brushes his block and I drive forward, not to drop him, just to remind him whose rhythm we’re moving to.
He stumbles half a step before recovering, breath leaving him in a short laugh. “You don’t warm up, do you?”
“I don’t need to,” I answer
