When Idalia entered the recreation center, she gasped, delighted by the spectacle of smooth, round rock shapes flying through the air. Different sizes, same shape, same polish. The Wanderans called them balls.

  Every instinct howled for her to sprint across the room and snatch one mid-flight. She wanted to chase, to zoom, to bite.

  Unfortunately, Kelix kept a firm grip on her tail, dampening her urge to fetch. She growled but pulled in a breath to steady herself.

  Overhead the lights glinted off her scales, casting crimson, gold and bronze shards of color across the polished floor. Even her own reflection looked out of place: too tall, too predatory, too… other.

  The recreation center was too bright for Idalia's liking. White panels glowed along the ceiling, glossy floors that reflected movement, and an artificial breeze that carried faint hints of ozone and sterilized sweat. The Wanderans, she reminded herself, were everywhere. Laughing, running, colliding in controlled bursts of chaos.

  But unlike chaos, this was structured. They called it fun.

  She stayed motionless at the edge of the tennis court, her claws tucked away, trying to look as non-threatening as Kelix had begged her to. The problem was that even standing still, she looked like a threat—a half-grown Liorex cub among compact, soft-skinned bipeds. The soldiers were laughing, relaxed—at least pretending to be—but their eyes kept sliding toward her anyway. Quick, nervous glances. Like mice checking whether the cat was merely resting or truly asleep.

  Otherwise, Kelix stood beside her, arms crossed, sipping his strawberry drink as if it could shield him from the looks being thrown their way.

  "They're staring," Idalia said.

  "They stare at everyone," Kelix said smoothly.

  "No," she countered, her voice dipping to a low growl. "They stare like I'm going to eat the rackets."

  "You were the one who said you might."

  "That was humor, Kelix. I'm very funny."

  "Sure," he said, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a smile.

  Smack!

  On the court, Rhaya lunged gracefully after the ball, returning it with a sharp, almost musical thwack. The other soldiers cheered, sweat glinting on their brows.

  It was rhythmic, almost ritualistic, and Idalia's tail swayed unconsciously with the beat. She found herself fascinated—not just by the sport, but by how serious they were about this odd dance of hitting things.

  Her curiosity was cut short by a whisper from behind her.

  "Is it even safe letting her in here?" one soldier murmured to another. "I mean… if she went loose…"

  The other responded. "We'd be vapor before the siren finished."

  Idalia didn't react at first, confused. But Kelix's shoulders stiffened. The faint flex of his jaw was the only sign he'd heard them. He didn't turn, didn't lash out. Just inhaled once, slow and deep.

  Idalia, however, felt the air shift inside her chest—something old and predatory stirred. Her claws flexed against the polished floor, her body heat rising just a notch. The lights in the room flickered off, once—then twice—from her rising heartbeat.

  {Emotional: 99% → 96%}

  {Heart's BPM: 60 → 180 (5%)}

  Idalia stared confused at the new indicator. What did H-BPM mean? How did the five percent connect with the heart? She focused on the indicators only for her musing to be interrupted by the murmuring from the inhabitants in the room.

  Fear. She smelled the unease everywhere from everyone.

  Kelix placed a hand on her forearm. His voice was low, but firm. "Ignore them. They don't know you."

  "I could show them."

  "I know. That's the problem."

  The tension lingered like static, but Idalia forced her eyes back toward the game. The recreation center resumed with the rhythmic pop of tennis balls and the occasional hiss of sneakers across the polished surface.

  Meanwhile, Rhaya continued to play on the far court, slicing through the air with calm, precise swings. She moved as though the game of tennis itself obeyed her—every serve deliberate, every volley a rhythm the others struggled to match. Even when her partner fumbled, she recovered with effortless pivots, her racket drawing clean arcs that practically sang with control. Oddly, each motion left a faint shimmer drifting from her skin.

  Green? Yellow? Orange? Idalia couldn't decide. What level was Rhaya's mana, exactly? Even with her [Spatial Sight] tracing the woman's energy, Idalia still couldn't pinpoint it.

  She finally conceded, concentrating elsewhere.

  The ball flew, struck the net, bounced again. Idalia's tail twitched in rhythm. Thwack. Bounce. Thwack.

  Kelix leaned beside Idalia, sipping what was probably his fifth strawberry drink of the day. "You're staring," he said without looking at her.

  "I'm observing," Idalia replied. "She moves like a predator pretending to dance."

  "That's actually… pretty accurate."

  "Mhm."

  Slowly, she looked down at her own claws, then her scaled forearms—thick, powerful, anything but graceful. It seemed impossible to hold anything like the Wanderan's did with their hands. She turned them over thoughtfully, then eyed her tail, the heavy appendage sweeping the air behind her.

  What if…

  Idalia tilted her head, watching carefully. Her tail began to twitch in sync with the rhythm of play. "So the goal is to strike the ball hard enough that it lands inside those lines but can't be caught?"

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Kelix looked surprised, briefly. "Basically. You can serve, volley, rally, even drop shot if you're feeling fancy."

  "I can absolutely do that!"

  [Knowledge Core [D]: 42% → 43%]

  Kelix noticed the gleam in her eyes. "Ida," he warned. "Whatever you're thinking, don't."

  "I'm learning, Kelix," she said innocently. "You told me to learn."

  "That's not what I—"

  Too late. She had already crouched slightly, tail curling behind her in an experimental coil. Watching Rhaya's swing, she mimicked the motion her tail snapping forward like a whip through empty air. The sound cracked like a gunshot, startling half the room. One of the soldiers dropped their racket. Another screamed.

  Then the game froze.

  Rhaya paused mid-swing, visor tilting upward in silent disbelief.

  Idalia straightened, utterly proud. "Did you see that? Perfect form! I struck the air cleanly!"

  Kelix pinched the bridge of his nose. "You terrified the air, yes."

  A soldier on the court whispered, "She just broke the sound barrier with her tail…"

  Idalia's frill twitched in satisfaction. "Excellent! Then I'm already advanced!"

  Rhaya exhaled slowly, approaching the edge of the court. "If that was a challenge, Liorex, I accept. But If you intend to play, perhaps we begin with gentle volleys. We prefer to keep the walls intact."

  "Gentle is relative!"

  "So is survival." Kelix said under his breath.

  Suddenly Rhaya motioned to a subordinate, who brought her a racket.

  "Here, take this," Rhaya said to Idalia.

  As Rhaya tossed her an extra racket cautiously, like tossing a steak to a very polite dragon, Idalia caught it with her tail, testing the balance with clear delight. The soldiers backed up a respectful three meters.

  Kelix choked on his drink. He probably hoped this time, the learning didn't involve a crater. "Rhaya—wait, she's not—"

  But Idalia was already dashing across the court. "Good. I was just thinking how bored I was!"

  ??? ???

  Kelix adjusted his grip on his own racket, bouncing lightly on his heels. Idalia stood opposite him, tail swishing with barely contained excitement, the oversized racket held steadily in her tail's grasp.

  Then she looked up, noticing how the tennis court gleamed beneath the ship's artificial skylights. It was bright, sterile, and entirely unprepared for what was about to happen. Just how she wanted.

  The recreation center had been transformed into a makeshift arena of bright lights and polished court lines—and reinforced walls. Holo-panels projected a translucent boundary net, filling the space between the three figures.

  Rhaya stood poised at the opposite end, with her racket balanced like a blade in her hand. Her posture was perfect: loose and centered. There was no trace of the casual, almost bored grace she had shown earlier. This was a different focus.

  Kelix tugged at his sleeve nervously. "Ida, remember—this is a friendly match."

  She heard him, she listened, but her tail gripped the racket like it was a hunting spear.

  "Of course," she said, though her tail coiled like a spring. "Friendly. I will only slightly crush her."

  "Please don't."

  Across the net, Rhaya twirled the ball once in her palm, eyes hidden behind the reflective visor. "Whenever you're ready."

  The first serve came like a bolt of plasma.

  The ball blurred, shrieked through the air, and Idalia barely saw it before it slammed into the back wall with a thunk.

  "Point!" called the referee.

  "…I wasn't ready," Idalia said flatly.

  Kelix blinked. "Was anyone?"

  "Then ready yourselves!" Rhaya sang.

  The next serve came, faster. This time Kelix dashed forward, a crack of air where he'd stood. His reflexes were near-inhuman, and he almost failed to intercept. The racket connected—barely—and the ball shot upward like a comet.

  Idalia's tail lashed. She leapt, twisting midair, and swung. The impact echoed across the court, with the sound of a sonic clap that rattled the observation glass.

  The ball disappeared.

  Kelix exclaimed. "Where—"

  A faint pop sounded behind Rhaya as the ball embedded itself halfway into the far wall.

  The soldiers watching from behind the barrier stood speechless.

  Rhaya turned slowly. "That… was unnecessary."

  Idalia landed, proud and panting. "Did I win?"

  "No," Rhaya said, plucking a fresh ball from the bin. "You lost velocity discipline."

  Kelix looked incredulous. "You're lecturing her after she broke the wall?"

  "Yes. Because she can do better." Rhaya bounced the ball once, twice, then tossed it high. Her motion was smooth, her follow-through perfect—smack! The serve blurred across the net with blistering speed, skimming the line before Idalia even finished blinking.

  Yet Kelix vanished.

  Electricity flared where he'd been standing, thin tendrils dancing across the court as he reappeared mid-dive, returning the ball in a flash of white light. The crowd gasped, shielding their eyes as his body seemed to flicker through three positions at once—each movement leaving a faint ghost-trace of lightning behind him.

  Idalia watched, unbothered by the blur. Her pupils dilated to vertical slits, and her [Oblivion Sight] ignited—a faint yellow shimmer blooming across her irises. The world slowed to a crawl. Every spark that trailed from Kelix's movement, every ripple in the air from his sheer velocity, she saw it—tracked it.

  "Fascinating…" she said, tail swaying as her senses devoured the patterns. "He moves like lightning pretending to have bones."

  She moved in sync, her tail snapping out to catch Rhaya's return—a brutal, low drive that she slammed back with a whip-crack that echoed through the room.

  Rhaya didn't flinch. Her racket blurred—and then, impossibly, she was simply there, intercepting the shot midair before it even reached its apex. To the others, it looked like teleportation. To Idalia, through her enhanced vision, it was something stranger.

  Rhaya's movements weren't merely fast—they bent light. Astonishingly, around her limbs shimmered a faint, glittering distortion, like liquid starlight running beneath her skin. Each step left afterimages that twinkled and dispersed, as if reality itself had to catch up with her.

  "What… She glows when she moves."

  Kelix didn't seem to notice. "Focus, Ida!"

  The game continued: 2-0—with Rhaya having the advantage.

  Another rally erupted—ball to Kelix, to Rhaya, to Idalia. Kelix streaked through the baseline, arcs of current snapping across his arms as he pivoted and served an angled volley. His speed made him little more than a blur of crackling white, every motion punctuated by a thunderclap from friction and displaced air.

  Idalia, her mind slowed by {Oblivion Sight}, could see his every move in crystal clarity. She saw how the charge built across his legs before he darted, how the air ionized behind him, how his heartbeat pulsed in rhythm with each step.

  And still—somehow—Rhaya was faster?

  No.

  Her racket found the ball at impossible angles, redirecting it with a dancer's grace and a sniper's accuracy. Her glittering trail would often shimmer brighter each time she moved. It was too smooth, too inhuman.

  Kelix landed beside Idalia, panting, electricity arcing between his fingers. "I can't get a read on her—she's predicting me!"

  "She's not predicting," Idalia said, her eyes locked on the strange shimmer surrounding Rhaya. "She's shaking the dimension. It bends for her."

  Kelix shot her a look. "What?"

  "Never mind." Her tail flicked, catching the next serve mid-flight. The boom shook the air as she returned it with enough force to dent the barrier wall.

  The crowd roared; then went silent. Rhaya had moved again.

  One blink, she was at the baseline. The next, she was midair—her body twisting with the elegance of an orbiting comet, racket slicing through the air in a perfect overhead smash. The ball struck the ground just inside the line on Idalia and Kelix's side, bouncing once before slamming into the far wall with a metallic clang.

  "Game point," Rhaya cheered, landing on the polished floor like a falling feather. Not even winded.

  Kelix was breathing hard, sparks still crawling across his arms. "That's… not human reflexes."

  Idalia's eyes glowed again. "No. That's something else."

  Rhaya turned to face them. Beneath the woman's skin, Idalia caught the faintest flicker of the same shimmering glitter that had wrapped her movements—a cosmic residue, faint but alive.

  "You two are strong," Rhaya said. "But strength and speed mean nothing without discipline."

  "Discipline?" Idalia echoed, her tail curling. "You have lots."

  Rhaya smiled slightly. "Aw, thanks..."

  As she turned and walked off the court, the glittering haze around her slowly faded, until only the faint sound of her footsteps remained.

  Kelix wiped sweat from his brow, exhaling in disbelief. "So that's why she's Vestella's guardian."

  Idalia's gaze lingered on the empty space Rhaya had occupied, her eyes dimming back to their natural hue. "She's beyond us. She bends her rhythm to dimension's vibrations itself. But how is she able to do that?"

  Kelix gave her a sidelong glance. "You're not discouraged?"

  She bared her teeth in a snarl. "Discouraged? No. I've just found a new hunt."

  Kelix groaned. "Please tell me it's metaphorical this time."

  Idalia's tail flicked, playful and dangerous all at once. "You'll find out when I catch her."