CHAPTER 105: SOMETHING MORE.

(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they mean a lot. As usual, please don’t hesitate to comment or drop a review. ENJOY)

---------------------------------

Orion’s eyes did not leave the pair. He catalogued microsecond timings, the way the girl’s pulse rose, the boy’s breathing lengthened, the exact angle of their weight shift. Everything slotted into his awareness like numbered chess pieces.

He had made his choice by not making one. He waited for the spark that would let him test the hypothesis. He waited to see whether Margaret would snap or hold.

Even he didn’t know the right decision to take, if he were in her shoes.

Margaret’s hand twitched once. Orion’s gaze shifted to her.

"You can handle them," he said simply.

Margaret blinked. "Alone?"

He nodded.

"Yes. You need to." He said, his tone leaving no room for bargain.

The boy from the opposing duo laughed. "That’s rich. You’re letting her fight us both?"

Orion didn’t answer. He took two steps back and folded his arms.

Margaret exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. She wasn’t sure if it was confidence or cruelty that made him say that—but she wasn’t going to ask.

The girl smirked. "This will be over quick."

"Probably," Margaret thought solemnly.

Then she moved.

Her first step was smooth, second same—then hesitation slipped in. Her mana flared and dimmed erratically, the same rhythm that always betrayed her. Her punch struck air as the girl slipped aside with a grin.

"Unstable already?" the girl mocked.

Margaret didn’t answer. She stepped back, shaking her fingers. The boy joined in, circling her. He was faster, low stance, angled footwork—likely mana enhancement. The girl radiated control; her strikes were economical and confident. Together, they pressed her from opposite sides.

Orion watched from behind, eyes half-lidded. He didn’t move yet. Protocol mapped their lines in his mind. Margaret was fighting on shifting ground—too defensive, too reactive. The instability spike was constant but patterned; every five seconds, her mana output dropped, then spiked violently. Predictable enough for him.

The boy struck low; Margaret blocked but stumbled, her counter coming late. The girl kicked her side, knocking her back two steps. Margaret caught herself, breath unsteady.

"You rely too much on him," the girl said, glancing briefly at Orion. "Without him, you’re just—"

A faint distortion rippled through the air near her foot. She slipped half a step, eyes widening, her kick missing its mark by inches.

Orion didn’t even blink.

Margaret saw it immediately, a flick in the girl’s balance. She struck instinctively, elbow sharp and clean. It landed.

The girl hissed, staggering back. The boy rushed in to cover, but his footing faltered too—just a fraction. His step met uneven ground that hadn’t been uneven a second ago. He almost tripped.

Orion’s fingers flexed once behind his back, unseen. The distortion vanished.

Margaret straightened, her breathing steadier now. The slight breaks in rhythm gave her time to reset, to find control again.

She charged the boy, her strikes suddenly tighter. A jab, a pivot, a low kick—each motion smoother than before. The boy parried, but the difference in tempo caught him off. She wasn’t holding back anymore.

The girl regained her footing and lunged to assist, but something in her eyes changed. For the first time, hesitation.

Margaret’s next blow cracked the air; mana flared bright. The wave struck both opponents and sent them sliding.

Orion’s hand fell to his side again. He stopped interfering.

The girl spat dirt, glaring at him. "You’re helping her."

Though even she didn’t know how.

"Am I?" Orion replied mildly.

The boy grunted, regaining stance. "Doesn’t matter. We’ll finish this."

Margaret heard them, but she wasn’t listening. Her heart hammered, her focus sharpening through the noise. The instability hadn’t vanished, but she was riding it now—controlling the drop before it became a collapse.

She dashed forward again. The boy tried a counterpunch; she deflected and used the recoil to spin, her kick connecting with his ribs. He coughed, stumbling.

The girl moved in from behind, palm glowing faintly. Margaret twisted aside, barely avoiding the strike. It grazed her arm, searing pain shooting up, but she didn’t stop.

Her instability spiked; Orion saw it before it happened. Her mana burst too quickly, her control slipping. He prepared to stabilise the air around her again—then paused.

He didn’t.

Margaret staggered once but caught herself. Her stance reformed. The spike flattened.

Orion’s expression didn’t change, but he noted it. She’d corrected mid-fluctuation. That was new.

The boy attacked again, but his rhythm was predictable now. Margaret sidestepped, struck once in the gut, once across the jaw, and finished with a push that sent him sprawling.

The girl froze, half in disbelief. "You—"

Margaret looked up, eyes steady. "You talk too much."

Her next movement was clean—a single slap to the cheek, broke through the girl’s guard and sent her reeling backward.

Both opponents hit the ground within seconds of each other.

Silence followed.

Margaret stood breathing hard, hands trembling slightly, but her posture didn’t break. Her mana stabilised—still fluctuating, but softer now, controlled.

Orion walked forward, his steps measured. He stopped beside her, glanced once at the fallen pair, then at her arm where he could see a faint tremor.

"Better," he said with a clap.

Margaret smiled faintly, though she didn’t turn to him. "You interfered."

"Only a little," Orion replied.

"You could’ve handled them faster yourself."

"I know."

"Then why didn’t you?"

He didn’t answer immediately. He stared at her a bit.

"Because you needed to know you could," he said finally.

Margaret exhaled, the tension leaving her shoulders. She wiped her arm and crouched briefly, picking up one of the fallen duo’s sigil stones.

"Points," she murmured, passing it to him.

"Keep it," he said.

"You need them more."

Margaret frowned, unsure whether he meant it as encouragement or mockery. Probably both.

He turned, already walking away. She followed after a moment, still catching her breath.

Orion checked his internal clock; about 12 minutes had passed, and the final 30 minutes were just 18 minutes away. The seventh compression—still some time away.

Margaret flexed her fingers again. Her mana felt different—still turbulent but no longer drowning her. She realised maybe she could do more, become something more. Just a thought but it was starting to take root in her mind.