The first orc crashed through the underbrush like a living battering ram, axe raised high and eyes burning with savage hunger.
Mira was already moving.
With a roar of her own, she launched forward, faster than Leo could track. She met the orc head-on—not with a weapon, but with her fists. Her knuckles slammed into the beast's jaw with a thunderous crack, sending its head snapping sideways. The force lifted its hulking body clean off the ground, crashing into a tree with a splintering boom.
She didn't stop.
Another orc charged from her left—massive, armored, snarling.
Mira ducked low, spun, and drove her elbow into its stomach with such force the creature's torso dented inward. It dropped its weapon mid-charge, gasping like the wind had been torn from its lungs. She grabbed its wrist and twisted—there was a snap, a scream, and then the orc hit the ground, unmoving.
Leo gaped. She's not just strong—she's terrifying.
Behind her, Aric moved like flowing water. Literally. Coils of liquid shimmered around him, condensing into high-pressure bolts that fired with precision. Each time an orc veered too close to another team—especially one where a young girl cried out in fear—Aric's water lances slammed into the attacker, either piercing vital spots or sending them flying backward.
One particularly large orc raised its club over a smaller boy who had tripped and fallen. A twisting jet of water hit the creature's shoulder, forcing it off balance—and then another bolt struck its throat, snapping its head back violently.
Aric didn't even flinch. His eyes flicked from target to target, calm as the surface of a frozen lake.
Leo watched, frozen.
He gripped his spear, heart hammering. The others were too fast, too composed. Mira was a force of nature, Aric a battlefield strategist. He felt… unnecessary. Slow. Ordinary.
Then an orc slipped through.
It was fast and quiet—unlike the others. A scout, perhaps. It darted around Mira and Aric's chaos, weaving between trees and leaping over a fallen trunk. It was coming straight for them—for Leo.
Time slowed.
Leo's breath caught as the orc raised a wickedly curved blade. He stepped back instinctively—but then something changed.
A hum in the air. A tug in his gut.
The world around him warped subtly—not dramatically, not with a flash or roar. But like the space between him and the orc bent inward.
He was there.
One moment, he had been bracing, feet apart. The next, he had shifted, just slightly—but the distance closed unnaturally fast. His spear moved almost on its own.
He heard it again—like the rhythm Eldrin had taught him, but deeper. A pulse, a path.
The spear slid forward like a needle through cloth—clean, sure, inevitable.
The orc's eyes widened in confusion as the weapon pierced its throat with surgical precision.
It stumbled. Gurgled. Dropped.
Leo stood trembling, the spear's shaft humming faintly beneath his grip.
Mira glanced back, catching the tail end of it. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Aric turned, eyes flicking to Leo, then to the collapsed orc. A brief pause. No words—just the slightest nod of approval.
Leo stared down at the body.
That wasn't just speed. Space… compressed?
Somewhere deep inside, he felt that same echo as when he first touched space essence during meditation—a silent ripple through unseen dimensions.
Another roar broke his thoughts. The forest was still teeming with enemies. Mira was already charging again, knuckles stained, eyes alight with fury. Aric was flanking, water swirling into spears around his arms.
And Leo… Leo gritted his teeth, adjusted his stance, and raised the spear once more.
He didn't know how—but he was starting to feel the path again.
The dance had only just begun.