The door hissed open, the training room's air hitting like a wall—thick with sweat, the tang of ozone, the faint metallic bite of Ikona energy. Mats stretched worn and stained, their edges curling from countless fights.
Equipment racks lined the walls, weights dented, dummies patched with tape. The ceiling hummed, vents recycling air that never felt clean. Elias stepped in, boots sinking into the mat's give, Colby's heavier steps vibrating beside him.
Kikaru glanced over, her eyes sharp, pausing mid-kick. Paul's shards slowed, his gaze flicking to Colby's bulk. Faye's hum softened, her Ikona's feathers shimmering, a single note lingering like a question.
Elias rolled his shoulders, shard pulsing hotter, a steady thump syncing with his heart. Colby cracked his neck, muscles flexing under his tank top, no shard glowing, just raw mass. "Ready?" Colby said, stepping onto the mat, his boots scuffing a faint dust trail.
