The clearing did not change.
It remained empty.
Still.
Deceptively calm.
And yet—
Everything within it was moving.
Not visibly.
Not in ways the eye could follow.
But in the way pressure shifted underfoot, in the way air brushed past the skin at the wrong moment, in the way balance itself felt… negotiated rather than natural.
Karna stood at the center of it.
Not tense.
Not rigid.
But aware in a way that extended beyond sight.
Beside him, Duryodhana adjusted his stance again, his grip firm on his mace, his jaw set in quiet irritation.
"…I don't like fighting something I can't hit," he muttered.
Karna did not respond immediately.
Because this—
Was not a fight in the way they understood it.
This was not about striking an opponent.
It was about surviving control.
The flow shifted again.
This time—
Sharper.
A sudden pressure pushed against Karna's right side, subtle but deliberate, altering the alignment of his next step before it even completed.
