The floor was slick. Not wet—just polished wrong, like someone had cleaned it in a hurry and left the residue. Kael adjusted his footing without looking down.
Ironclad stood at the far end of the transit spine, one boot planted on a collapsed support beam. His armor caught the overhead light in sharp angles. No helmet. No weapon drawn.
"You're late," Ironclad said.
Kael didn't answer. He moved forward, slow, deliberate. The hum of the station was louder here, like the walls were holding their breath.
Juno's voice crackled in his ear. "Containment holding. Veil units stalled. You've got space."
Kael tapped once to acknowledge. Mira didn't speak.
Ironclad stepped off the beam. His movements were smooth, heavy. Not fast. Just certain.
"You built a system that reacts faster than you do," he said. "That's not leadership."
Kael stopped ten meters out. "You built one that needs permission to breathe."
Ironclad tilted his head. "And yet here we are."
Behind them, distant impacts echoed—pressure fields shifting, doors locking, boots scrambling. The battle was everywhere and nowhere. This was the center.
Kael flexed his fingers. The claws hadn't surfaced. Not yet.
Ironclad noticed. "Still pretending restraint is strength?"
Kael didn't blink. "Still pretending control is clarity?"
Ironclad moved first.
Not a charge. A step—then another. His right arm shifted, plates folding back to reveal a reinforced gauntlet. Not a weapon. A tool.
Kael stepped sideways, letting the angle break. The floor vibrated under Ironclad's weight. Not seismic. Just wrong.
They closed the distance in silence.
Ironclad swung low. Kael ducked, pivoted, let the gauntlet scrape past his ribs. The air split—sharp, dry, like a wire snapping.
Kael countered with an open palm, not claws. He struck the joint behind Ironclad's shoulder. The armor absorbed most of it, but Ironclad staggered half a step.
"You trained for this," Ironclad said, voice steady.
Kael didn't respond. He moved again—faster this time. A feint left, then a real strike to the knee. Ironclad blocked with his forearm, the impact ringing through the corridor like metal dropped on tile.
They separated.
Kael's breathing was even. Ironclad's wasn't.
"You think this proves something," Ironclad said.
Kael adjusted his stance. "It does."
Ironclad lunged.
Kael let the claws surface—just the right hand. The shift was quiet, skin tightening, nails darkening. He caught Ironclad's wrist mid-swing and twisted. The gauntlet cracked.
Ironclad grunted, stepped back, reset.
Kael didn't chase.
Juno's voice again. "They're watching. Every hub with a feed."
Kael tapped once.
Ironclad rolled his shoulder. "You could've ended this already."
Kael stepped forward. "I did."
He moved fast—no warning, no buildup. Claws to the chest plate, then a pivot behind. He struck the exposed joint at the base of Ironclad's spine. The armor buckled.
Ironclad dropped to one knee.
Kael didn't finish it.
He stepped back.
Ironclad looked up, breathing hard. "You won't kill me."
Kael's voice was quiet. "You're not the threat anymore."
Ironclad didn't rise.
Around them, the station adjusted—pressure fields easing, alerts dimming. The spine held.
Kael turned away.
Ironclad didn't follow.