Chapter 125: Thrown Dice
Junijo swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "I keep seeing it... the way his body just—split. How do we fight something like that?"
Kikaru stepped closer, her voice cutting through the haze. "By not freezing up. Vincent’s got three shards now, and he’s not slowing down. We’ve got to be ready—together."
Elias met her gaze and nodded. "Like we said before. We stick as a unit. No one’s facing this alone."
Tidwell pushed off the table, cracking his knuckles with a forced grin. "Fine. Let’s beat the crap out of some training dummies instead of each other. Sound good?"
Junijo managed a weak smile, the first sign of life in his expression. "Yeah... yeah, I can do that."
The pod doors hissed shut behind them, sealing out the sterile hum of the facility and plunging them into the training room’s familiar embrace.
The air hit Elias like a wall—thick with the metallic tang of sweat, the faint ozone of Ikona energy, and an unspoken tension that clung to every breath.
No one spoke as they filed in, boots scuffing against the worn mats, eyes darting between the equipment racks and each other. They didn’t waste time. After what they’d seen in the arena—Randalp’s body splitting apart under Vincent’s shards, the Crafter’s manic grin—they couldn’t afford to.
The group threw themselves into the drills with a ferocity that teetered on the edge of desperation, each punch, each dodge, each flare of Ikona energy a silent vow to shove the fear and helplessness back into the dark where it belonged.