Ethan was easily evading Mace's attacks.
'He's strong, but predictable.'
Though he'd be lying if he didn't say that it was getting harder to do so with each attack.
As such, he shifted seamlessly.
'Minor Assimilation: Talon.'
The change was immediate: his body lightened, his movements became more graceful, and his perception stretched just enough to make everything feel slower.
Now, he wasn't just dodging; he was weaving between attacks.
Mace's fists tore through the air with devastating force, each swing capable of shattering bone and cracking reinforced ground, but Ethan slipped between them with precise, almost surgical movements.
A step to the side.
A lean back.
A slight pivot of the hips.
Each motion was minimal, efficient, and clean.
His speed was impressive, but his vision was what made the difference; he wasn't reacting, he was reading the attacks coming his way.
