Aeron moved swiftly among the injured, distributing potions and pills with practiced efficiency. His hands were steady, his voice calm as he helped others on how to apply the salves, but his gaze kept flickering back to the battle.
To them.
Aman and Zephyr moved like shadows given form, their strikes precise, their coordination seamless. The Frost Ravager—a monster that had given even veteran Resonators trouble—had fallen in thirty seconds under their assault. And now, without pause, they were already sprinting toward the next threat.
Aeron's grip tightened around a healing vial.
They're…
Zephyr's saber moved like an extension of his own will, each slash cutting through the air with lethal grace. His footwork was immaculate, his stance unshakable—every motion spoke of years, maybe decades, of relentless refinement.
He's in a whole different realm.
And Aman…
Aeron's teeth clenched.
Aman was better than before.
