It took a moment before Winter moved again. The fact that her grip hadn't loosened on her sword—even after a hit like that—made one thing clear: she'd been knocked down, but she was far from out.
She rose to her feet, hair now loose and cascading down her back. Slate-blue eyes—sharp and unwavering—locked onto Sable, who had just snapped out of his own stunned silence.
She's still standing after that? Huntresses really aren't a joke…
Drawing in a slow, steady breath, Winter finally spoke. Her voice was calm but edged with resolve. She flicked a glance toward Asher, making it obvious the next words were meant for both him and Sable.
"I'll admit, I didn't expect that. I've served in the Atlas Military for years, and in that time, I've rarely seen technology that could match a fully trained Huntsman with a developed Aura." It was the very reason Atlas Academy tried to recruit them after graduation. In this world, the most powerful weapons weren't machines—they were people who fought the Grimm.
"Complacency..." Her voice lowered slightly.
"I never imagined a suit of armor could move like that—or make someone fight with such precision. But crediting the suit alone would be unfair to the person inside it." Her stance shifted again—firmer now, more controlled.
The tone in her voice followed suit.
"So I won't be holding back anymore. I'll be fighting seriously." She turned briefly to Ironwood. He met her gaze, read her intent, and after a pause, gave a single nod.
Winter looked back at Sable and finished what she started.
"My apologies… if you get hurt in the process." A glowing white glyph bloomed beneath her feet, identical to the kind Weiss could summon. Her semblance was a hereditary trait—an inherited legacy of the Schnee bloodline.
Sable, of course, didn't know that. He only understood semblances in general—unique powers unlocked through Aura and refined through effort.
So, instinctively, he raised his guard.
Then Winter vanished.
To the naked eye, it was as if she disappeared in a blink. An alert blared through the suit's systems—Winter's speed had more than doubled, and she was already in striking range.
Her blade flashed as she closed in from the right, her approach calculated down to the last step. The Insurgent Suit's sensors kept pace—barely. Sable could react, but not enough to dodge, only block.
Raising his right arm, there was nothing to see—only the sharp hiss of metal against metal as Winter flashed past, her form blurring before reappearing a few meters to Sable's left, despite the strike coming from the right.
[Warning: Surface abrasion—6mm depth. No breach detected.]
GAIA's voice echoed in his ears as Sable glanced at the arm he'd used to block. He'd angled it, trying to deflect rather than take the blow head-on. Still, Winter had carved a shallow gash into the armor's plating.
She wasn't bluffing… If she lands more hits like that—cleaner ones—she's going to cut straight through me.
Without hesitation, Sable's hand darted to his left hip, fingers closing around the Predator Pistol in one clean motion. It was fast—too fast for anything but relentless training.
The moment Winter saw the barrel lift, she moved.
Bounding across the training field, she weaved between the raised, cubic obstacles, using them for cover. On his heads-up display, Sable tracked shifting indicators: where he was aiming, where Winter was, and where she would be in the next half-second.
There!
He squeezed the trigger.
The sound cracked like thunder, echoing across the chamber. The instant the round left the barrel, its micro-thrusters ignited, pushing the projectile to speeds nearly matching Winter's current sprint.
In less than a second, the bullet was a meter away—and Winter had already spotted it.
She twisted her body mid-step, ducking into the narrow space between two barriers. But as she moved, she saw it—the thrusters flaring again, adjusting the bullet's path in midair. It curved, smart-tracked, closing in like it had eyes.
Winter clenched her jaw.
She didn't have time to dodge.
Her blade came up in one sharp motion, striking the bullet before it could make contact. The impact triggered the payload—small, but dense. Compact. Enough to cause a tightly focused explosion on contact.
The blast rocked her.
Winter's legs locked to hold her ground, but the force still sent her skidding backward. She landed hard, shoulder brushing the wall behind her.
Sharp breath. Tight grip.
Her eyes snapped back toward where the shot had come from, but obstacles still blocked her direct line of sight to Sable.
It didn't matter.
Because in the next instant, she saw him.
The Insurgent Armor rose into the air in a fluid leap, a gleaming arc cutting through the space above her. He was airborne—and descending fast—trajectory bent perfectly to land right where she'd come to a stop.
Inside the suit, Sable's eyes were locked in. Whatever reward he might've earned—win or lose—was forgotten. Now, the fight consumed him completely.
Mid-air, he snapped open the Predator Pistol. The spent casing from the last round popped free with a sharp click, ejected cleanly as his other hand reached down to his waist for a fresh round. In one smooth motion, he reloaded and snapped the weapon shut.
Below, Winter didn't wait. She summoned a glyph midair, angled like a tilted shield, and stepped aside just as the Insurgent Armor came crashing down. The barrier caught the impact, redirecting Sable's weight and force, slamming him down onto the glyph instead of the ground she'd just vacated.
Balanced on the glowing platform, Sable didn't hesitate. He tossed the pistol into his left hand, pivoted, and fired in the direction Winter had dodged toward.
Another deafening blast ripped through the air as the smart round rocketed toward her.
Winter's mind raced.
Too fast… and too close to fully redirect if I dodge. I'll never get clear in time.
She dropped her weight, bending sharply at the hips and knees until she was nearly parallel to the floor. It was close, but just enough. The round blasted past her, missing by inches. Asher had warned her: the bullet's tracking system couldn't handle tight, ninety-degree shifts in close quarters.
But he'd also called it the most advanced smart round in the world. With its onboard microcomputer, the round realized it had missed. So it did the next best thing—it detonated.
The temperature spiked. The air shimmered, warped by the shockwave as fragments and shrapnel burst outward in every direction.
Already in a backward lean, Winter couldn't brace in time. The blast knocked her flat, her body slamming against the ground with a dull, echoing thud. Her glyph flickered and vanished, broken by the sudden loss of focus.
She barely had time to register the impact before she heard it—heavy, fast footsteps closing in.
Her eyes snapped open, pupils adjusting just as the dark figure loomed overhead.
Sable was already on her.
His fist, encased in the armor of the Insurgent Suit, was pulled back—and then launched forward with brutal speed. Winter rolled her head just enough to the side. The metal grazed her cheek as it crashed into the floor, smashing a dent into the training surface.
The suit shifted.
Sable didn't pause—he flowed straight into the next strike, switching hands. The momentum from the first punch fed directly into the second, a vicious follow-up driving toward her with punishing force.
Once again, Winter twisted her body across the ground, narrowly avoiding the incoming strike. The impact rattled the floor, her sword slipping from her grasp. But she didn't hesitate. Pushing off with both hands, her legs shot upward, coiling around the Insurgent Armor's arm. Then, with the kind of explosive strength only a trained Huntress could generate from such a position, she threw Sable off of her.
His armored body was flung through the air.
Winter snatched up her sword and sprang to her feet, slashing through the air in his direction. Even as Sable reoriented himself mid-flight, a glyph formed beneath him, floating just above the floor, exactly where he was about to land.
There was no avoiding it.
The moment his boots touched down, the glyph darkened—its edges pulsing with a faint violet hue. Gravity Dust.
And then, suddenly, Sable felt everything go still.
Not just still—absent.
His sense of weight vanished. His limbs drifted. The floor was gone. His entire body entered a true anti-gravity state, floating midair with no control. Winter rose slowly, sword angled upward like a conductor raising a baton. In response, the glyph pulsed again, shimmering with that unmistakable purple sheen.
Then gravity reversed.
Sable felt himself falling upward, his body drawn into the air by a force that flipped his entire orientation.
One by one, new glyphs began appearing in the space around him, encircling him from every direction, forming a tight, spherical pattern. Each glyph pointed inward, locking onto his position. Still caught in anti-grav, Sable couldn't maneuver.
Winter was already moving.
She leapt, landing on one of the glyphs with perfect precision. Her speed surged as it launched her upward—her blade flashing as she rocketed through the air like a spear aimed straight at him.
[Impact registered: Rear dorsal quadrant. Kinetic dampeners compensating.]
[Warning: Surface abrasion—7mm depth. No breach detected.]
[Armor integrity: 98%]
Sparks burst in a brief halo as her strike connected, carving a deep cut into the back of the Insurgent Armor. She landed on another glyph above him—the one she'd launched from, vanishing the moment her foot left it.
Sable looked up. Time seemed to stretch.
He knew exactly what was coming.
If one strike wasn't enough, she'd just use dozens.
[Multiple impacts detected. Directional: Arc-Left / Arc-Right / Overhead. Trajectory pattern: Unpredictable swarm.]
[Reactive shielding re-routing power. Defensive posture recommended.]
[Compromised segments: Left hip plate, dorsal flank.]
[Shock absorbers exceeding threshold—stabilizing... stabilized.]
Winter moved like light—her blade gleaming under the overhead fixtures, a blur of motion too fast to follow. Glyphs shattered one by one as she launched from them, struck, landed, and leapt again. Each blow shifted Sable's position slightly in the air. He was helpless to resist—floating like a ragdoll, every motion dictated by her assault.
And then, with a final upward slash, Winter launched herself high above him. Her blade arced past his midsection, the strike propelling her even higher.
For one perfect moment, she hovered above.
And then, gravity returned.
Sable's body dropped. Fast.
But even in freefall, his mind remained sharp. His hand shifted subtly toward the side of his right thigh. A movement so slight, Winter didn't even catch it.
Sable looked up and caught it, just for a split second. In the blur of movement, he saw Winter midair, her lips curling into a smile. Not one of mockery, but excitement.
Pure, focused joy. She was enjoying this too. Somewhere along the way, just like him, she had sunk fully into the fight—everything else fading into the background.
Then it appeared.
A glyph—larger than any before—formed high above. Its radius was easily wide enough to hold up a full-sized car.
Back on the ground, Asher watched the unfolding battle with sharp attention.
One brow lifted as he muttered, "Huh. Weiss never did anything like that before."
"That's because it's one of the highest-level applications of the Schnee family's semblance," Ironwood replied, his tone matter-of-fact. He stood just behind Asher, arms crossed, watching his protégé.
For a moment, Asher had nearly forgotten who Ironwood was—Headmaster of Atlas Academy, and Winter's commanding officer. Of course, he knew what she was truly capable of.
She was his closest aide.
From the center of the massive glyph, a dense, swirling fog began to pour out, thick and cold. The temperature around the battlefield dropped noticeably.
Then, out of the mist, it emerged.
A hand—massive and ghostly—rose into view. Only slightly smaller than a tour bus, its sheer scale was staggering. And while it didn't look human, it also didn't resemble the black-and-red grotesqueness of a Grimm. This was something else entirely—white and blue, radiant and unnatural.
It was hard to say what it was made of. Ice? Hardlight? Some unique crystallized projection of her semblance? Whatever it was, the arm moved like it belonged to her—an extension of will and intent.
Above it all, Winter raised her sword, and the giant hand mirrored her exactly.
Sable moved to block, arms coming up, right before the massive fist collided with him like a wrecking ball.
The impact was immediate.
He was launched downward like a meteor, crashing toward the ground in a trail of momentum and force.
[Impact Type: Blunt force / Area-wide compression.]
[Armor integrity: 79%. Shock dampeners redlining.]
[Warning: High-velocity descent registered.]
Even with all the shock resistance and protective layering built into the Insurgent Armor, the impact rattled Sable to his core. The sheer force of the blow—and the violent vibrations that followed—were mind-numbing. The moment he hit the floor, it exploded beneath him, a ten-by-ten section of the gridded training environment shattering on impact.
Cubes buckled and split, the floor cratering under the weight of the strike.
[Landing force exceeds standard threshold—engaging kinetic redistribution.]
[Secondary shockwave absorbed. Internal injuries risk: Minimal.]
Sable winced inside the armor, letting out a low grunt as he watched the massive summoned fist dissipate. Above him, Winter descended gracefully, landing amidst the shattered remains of broken cubes.
"You've done well," she remarked, her tone calm yet firm.
"For someone with only two months of training." She stepped toward him, the point of her blade rising. Sable remained prone, his breath steady but strained, as she closed the distance. The edge of the sword hovered near his helmet.
"But this is the end. Surrender."
The blade pressed closer, a silent warning accompanying her words. Sable, however, didn't respond. He tilted his head slightly to the right, his gaze shifting. Winter noticed the movement, her expression sharpening. Without lowering her guard, she flicked her eyes toward whatever had caught his attention.
Then she saw it.
An S.G-2 grenade, hidden among the debris left by the earlier impact and her own attacks.
Her eyes widened.
"When did you-" Before she could finish, the grenade detonated.
A brilliant flash of light erupted, overwhelming the room. Even the distant spectators—Asher, Liv, Ironwood, and the others—had to look away. The intensity was blinding.
Winter recoiled, her vision washed out in an instant. The sudden brightness left her disoriented, while Sable's helmet adjusted seamlessly. His visor compensated, and he was left unaffected.
It had been a gamble—placing the S.G-2 amidst the chaos of her summoning—but Sable had banked on the Insurgent Armor's tech. Asher hadn't mentioned whether there were features meant or designed to handle unexpected brightness, and it seemed the gamble had paid off.
Moving with blinding speed, Sable reached behind his back as he sat up, drawing the Vibro-Knife from its sheath. With a sharp clang, he used it to deflect Winter's blade.
Winter, disoriented from the flash, tried to respond immediately. Her swing, however, was off—her vision still compromised.
Before she could recover, Sable grabbed her sword arm. The Insurgent Armor's augmented strength let him lift her effortlessly before driving her back down into the ground. The impact forced her grip to loosen, the sword slipping from her hand and clattering onto the floor.
Sable's hand shot forward, Vibro-Knife poised. But Winter's eyes squinted open just enough to see his next move. Instinct kicked in. She raised her leg and slammed her foot against the inner crook of his armored elbow, stopping the knife mid-thrust. The suit's raw power pushed against the enhanced strength her aura provided.
They locked into a stalemate.
Sable had her sword arm pinned. Winter's leg held his knife hand at bay. Her other arm was free, but it held no weapon. For the moment, they were both stuck.
Sable's jaw tightened.
Through gritted teeth, he barked, "Activate full body electrical current."
[Electrical Current – Active: Full Body]
A crackling surge of electricity coursed through the suit, sparking across Sable's entire frame. It wasn't as concentrated as before, but it didn't need to be. The current was strong enough to make Winter's muscles seize, her teeth clenching against the sharp shocks.
And yet, even as the electricity ran through her, her focus didn't falter.
Her free hand moved carefully, fingers tracing a small, deliberate loop in the air. A glyph materialized just above her palm. In an instant, a sharp ice shard shot from the glyph, streaking toward the hand that gripped the Vibro-Knife.
The shard hit with a force and speed that Sable barely registered. The next thing he knew, the knife was gone—flung far into the air.
GAIA's voice echoed in his ear as he processed the unexpected counter.
[Alert: Armor integrity compromised – Index and Middle Finger (Right Gauntlet).]
[Servo response failure confirmed.]
[Dexterity reduced by 43% in right hand.]
Glancing down, Sable noted the fingers GAIA had flagged. They were bent awkwardly, almost severed at the base, exposing the inner mechanics. They weren't completely cut off, but they were no longer functional. He couldn't hold anything with that hand anymore.
With the knife no longer a threat, Winter released his right arm from under her leg. She rolled away, slightly slower than usual, as residual electrical surges still rippled through her muscles. Even so, she managed to reach her sword and grip it tightly. At the same time, Sable reacted swiftly, using his left hand to draw the Predator Pistol from its holster.
What happened next seemed to occur in a single, breathless instant.
Four glyphs flared to life around Sable as the Predator Pistol left its holster. Both fighters froze in place.
Winter's blade rested at the armor's neck joint, poised to strike. Surrounding Sable, four massive icicles—each as thick as a human arm—hovered in mid-air, positioned to crush him from every angle. At the same time, Sable's outstretched left hand held the Predator Pistol's barrel pressed firmly under Winter's chin, angled upward.
Neither moved.
This wasn't a duel to the death, but in that moment, both of them knew how close they were. If Winter pressed her advantage, her blade could pierce Sable's neck, and even if it didn't, the surrounding icicles would collapse inward, likely crushing him. Yet Sable's finger was already resting on the trigger, and if he squeezed before she moved, even a Huntress with her aura would lose her head.
They stood locked in a tense standoff, breathing hard, but not daring to act. Winter's lips curled into a faint, breathy chuckle.
"You're not bad," she murmured, her voice a mixture of fatigue and respect.
Sable wasn't laughing. Though the suit regulated his body temperature, sweat still dripped from his brow. His mind was reeling, overheated from keeping up with the fight's constant demands.
"You mind if… we call this a draw?" he asked, his voice tight.
"I'm not sure I've got much left in me. And… I mean, I get paid either way, so…" Winter tilted her head slightly, considering. Then, with a light hum of acknowledgment, she lowered her blade. The glyphs around Sable vanished, taking the icicles with them.
"Fair enough," she agreed.
Relieved, Sable dropped his arm and let the Predator Pistol fall to his side. He collapsed backward onto the ground, landing hard with a loud thud. Staring up at the ceiling, he released a long, exhausted sigh. One thought rose above all others in his mind:
If this is what working for a bonus feels like, I'd rather skip it next time. I'm not sure if I'm ready to die over a paycheck…