The next day, Jelo met Atlas and Mira at the training grounds just after sunrise. The air was still cool, but the tension between them was already building.
"This isn't going to be easy," Mira said, stretching her arms as she eyed Jelo.
Atlas cracked his knuckles. "Good. That's the point."
Jelo stepped forward, rolling his shoulders, a faint smirk on his face. "Both of you at once."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"
"I need to know where I stand," Jelo replied. "The tournament isn't going to wait for me to catch up."
Atlas grinned. "Then don't fall behind."
Without another word Atlas moved first.
The ground responded immediately.
A ridge of compressed earth drove upward from the surface between them — sharp, fast, aimed at Jelo's footing rather than his body. Not an attack designed to hurt. Designed to disrupt. Break the stance, remove the foundation, force the adjustment.
Jelo read it half a second late.
