He tried to grab the staff, but the machine twisted it away with perfect timing, keeping distance while moving smoothly around him, reading every shift in his stance.
It didn't fight like the others.
It fought like something that studied every move he made.
"Asher," it said, "predictable motion identified."
Then it lunged.
The staff spun in a rapid combo—three strikes in one second.
Asher blocked the first with his forearm.
Dodged the second by bending his knee.
But the third caught him across the shoulder and forced him a step back.
The machine's voice was calm.
"Adapting to your rhythm."
"Yeah?" Asher spat. "Adapt to this."
He rushed in again, this time ignoring the staff completely.
The Strategic Unit swung at his head—
Asher ducked.
It tried to jab his stomach—
Asher twisted.
It swept at his legs—
Asher jumped over it and grabbed the staff with both hands.
He yanked hard.
The machine held on, but its balance shifted.
