They stood still for a moment.
No signal.
Just awareness.
Jelo measured the space between them. Ten meters. Maybe twelve. Close enough for one clean burst—far enough that neither of them had to commit yet. He kept his weight on his back foot, balanced, hands loose at his sides. His breathing was slow and controlled. He wasn't letting the pressure field get into his head before the fight had started.
Drex hadn't moved. Hadn't adjusted his stance, hadn't rolled his neck, hadn't done anything that suggested he felt any urgency at all. He stood there like he was waiting for a bus. Like Jelo was a variable he'd already accounted for and was simply waiting to process.
That kind of stillness had a message in it.
Then—
Jelo moved.
"Wing Burst."
WHOOSH.
