She hesitated. Just for a breath. She shouldn't have. But the voice meant someone was watching. And Aria hated being seen — especially in the moment she let go. So, she held back.
She turned her head on instinct—
The creature's fist slammed into her ribs.
Hard.
She crashed backward, boots digging into soil. The force stunned her—not enough to drop her, but enough to make her stumble into one knee, wind catching sharp in her chest.
Not many things could land a hit like that.
She looked up, eyes cold.
A shadow dropped from the ridge above.
Black coat lined with red — the color of Reeve rank — trailing behind him like a drawn blade. Twin swords gleamed in both hands.
His figure cut a clean line against the gray sky. Broad-shouldered, but lean — built like someone who trained not for strength, but for precision. His hair was short, swept back like it had grown tired of wind. His face held that rare stillness only battle-honed Wielders seemed to carry — the kind that made you wonder how many fights he'd walked away from, and how many he'd ended in a single blow.
His eyes—when they glanced toward her—were unreadable. Not cold. Not cruel. Just... assessing. Focused.
He landed between her and the creature with effortless control, knees bending to absorb the impact, cloak flaring once before settling.
No announcement. No hesitation.
He moved.
Two clean arcs — crossing steel in opposite sweeps. A faint pressure shimmer followed the blades, almost like vapor trailing from a hot forge — barely visible, but edged with a hint of powder blue. The creature flailed, shrieking — wild and uncontrolled, as the blades bit deep.
He ducked beneath its swing, pivoted, and drove one blade upward through its core — a sharp arc trailed faint deep blue Essentia, the motion so precise it left the air humming, pressure crackling along the edge for a breath before it faded.
The dust settled.
The creature didn't move again.
Aria, breath steady but chest tight, stared at the man's back.
Twin blades. Custom-forged. Not standard issue.
Everyone in Viralinn knew them.
Everyone knew him.
Elzid.
She just didn't expect him to show up here.
Aria didn't speak.
She just stared, the tension in her shoulders barely visible beneath her coat. Her sword slid cleanly into its sheath, slow and precise.
"You alright?" he asked, finally.
She didn't answer right away.
Then, "You weren't supposed to be here."
Elzid straightened a little. "Wasn't planning to be."
She turned to him fully, eyes unreadable.
"This was marked solo."
"I know."
"Then why interfere?"
He didn't flinch at the sharpness in her tone. "I was already tracking it. Since this morning. It came from farther west — slipped through one of the Nuller zones, I think."
Aria folded her arms. "So, you followed it. All the way out here."
"It was unstable. Left a scorch trail near the Rizeni border. I didn't think the Post would dispatch anyone this fast."
"Well," she said, voice cool. "They did."
The wind passed quietly over the ridge.
For a few long seconds, neither of them spoke. Aria stared at the remains of the creature — its spine still twitching faintly from the final hit.
There was no blood. No pain. She felt nothing.
She didn't mean to let anyone see that.
She flexed her fingers once, then stilled them. Control returned in pieces.
"You moved like you'd seen one before," Elzid said.
She glanced at him.
"The way you struck," he added. "It wasn't guessing."
Aria didn't reply.
He didn't expect her to.
She exhaled through her nose. Then, softly, "How long were you watching?"
Elzid just nodded.
Aria's gaze held still. He didn't answer. Just that one nod. Not yes. Not no. It left a quiet coil of doubt threading behind her eyes — had he seen too much, or only the end? She couldn't tell. She shifted her weight slightly, almost like bracing against a wind that hadn't come. And that made it worse.
She drew her coat in tighter — a reflex, not a chill.
A breath passed. Then she tilted her head slightly, breaking the silence.
"So, you're Elzid."
He glanced at her briefly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his composure. "Didn't expect you to know my name."
"I've heard it." She didn't shift expression.
"People talk. Doesn't mean I like the noise."
He nodded, thoughtful.
"I don't care about most people either."
He looked at her with a slight smile — not mocking, more understanding. "You're not most people."
She didn't answer. But a flicker crossed her expression — too quick to name.
Aria turned her eyes back to the ridge, quiet. "Neither are you, and I didn't need backup," she added.
"I'm not."
She tilted her head slightly. "But you cut in."
"I did."
"I don't like that either."
"Noted."
They stood in silence again.
Then Aria turned, already moving toward the edge of the ridge.
She didn't look back when she said, "Don't mention this that we crossed paths here."
A pause.
Then Elzid's voice behind her. "I won't."
She paused—not quite trust, not doubt. Just weighing his voice like it might shift under pressure.
"And don't follow."
"I wasn't."
She didn't answer. Her boots crunched softly as she stepped toward the ridge's edge.
Before she disappeared over the rise, Elzid's voice came again, low and measured.
"You're precise. Controlled. That thing never stood a chance."
Aria paused, the wind tugging at her cloak's red lining.
"You don't move like someone guessing," he added. "You move like someone who already knows the outcome."
She didn't look back.
Her pace shifted — neither faster nor slower, just... quieter.
The fog hadn't lifted, but the cold had shifted — sharper now, like the ridge had been disturbed and hadn't settled yet.
Aria walked on, her figure thinning into mist, the red lining of her coat the last thing visible.
Elzid watched for a beat longer, then moved to follow — not rushing, just... keeping pace.
A quiet breath escaped him.
"So that's Aria in action."