The constellation did not sleep.
It recalibrated.
After the Predator's accelerated adaptation, Ethan ordered controlled internal simulations—micro-engagements within sealed layers of their shared domain. Not to defeat an enemy.
To sharpen themselves.
The Convergence Axis reshaped into a vast training chamber: layered void platforms suspended in rotating geometric arcs. Frost sigils marked probability faultlines. Solar currents traced living boundaries across the dark.
Kaelith stood opposite Ethan, her silver-white aura condensed into razor-fine threads. Lysarra hovered above them, golden radiance cascading downward like a patient sun awaiting command.
"Again," Kaelith said.
No hesitation.
She moved first.
Frost constructs erupted from the floor in spiraling crescents—fast, precise, unpredictable. Each blade refracted light into false trajectories, forcing Ethan to calculate not just direct assault vectors but deceptive reflections.
He didn't block.
He dissolved.
