The air between the three students vibrated with a tension that was thick enough to taste. It tasted like ozone and blood.
Ashe did not wait for a signal. She did not wait for Vane to catch his breath or for Isole to finish her hesitation. To the Warlord, a pause on the battlefield was not a courtesy. It was a mistake to be punished.
She moved.
It was not a dash. It was an instant acceleration from zero to supersonic. The frost beneath her boots did not crack; it vaporized. She blurred, becoming a streak of silver and crimson that aimed directly for Vane's throat.
Vane's [Usurper] instincts screamed. His eyes, trained by a thousand stolen memories, saw the trajectory a fraction of a second before her body arrived.
He did not try to block. A Rank 3 Elite blocking a physical monster like an Oni head on was physics he could not win.
Second Form: Lunar Deflection.
