Michael vanished again.
This time, he did not overshoot.
He reappeared at Aeloria's side, feet skimming the ground, body aligned instead of collapsing into momentum. His shoulder dipped, his hips turned, and his fist drove forward in a tight arc.
Aeloria dodged on instinct.
The punch missed her torso by a narrow margin and slammed into empty air.
The result was immediate.
A violent gust erupted outward, ripping through the grey grass and flattening it in a wide fan. The air cracked, sharp and concussive, and Aeloria's body shook as the pressure struck her side. Her robes snapped violently as she was forced to slide back a full step, boots carving shallow grooves into the soil.
Her eyes sharpened.
Michael was already gone.
He reappeared behind her and threw another punch, this one lower, aimed where her ribs would have been if she had not moved. She twisted away, letting the strike pass, and the fist smashed into the ground instead.
The earth sank.
