Vale studied me for a long moment.
The silence in the Summit gym felt calculated, the kind of quiet a predator uses when deciding whether the thing in front of it is prey or just annoying. The morning sun kept painting those gold rectangles across the floor, but Vale's expression stayed completely unreadable behind those designer sunglasses.
"Tell me something, Monroe. What do you think combat actually is?"
"Fighting. Killing things. Using abilities to not die."
"Wrong." Vale uncrossed his arms. "Combat is what happens when every other option has already failed. Diplomacy failed. Avoidance failed. Retreat failed. Now you're standing in front of something that wants to eat your organs, and the only question left is whether your body can execute what your mind already knows how to do. Every flashy technique in the world is completely useless if the vessel carrying it falls apart at the first sign of sustained pressure."
He tapped his chest with two fingers.
