Butter Knife? No Robo Ants

The training room echoed with the sharp clang of metal as Vance's blade struck hers. The weight of the sword felt solid in her hand, but sweat was already dripping down her temple. Of course, Vance never went easy on her. Why would he? It was his personal mission to make her life as difficult as possible during training. His idea of a warm-up was trying to cleave her head off.

She gritted her teeth, swinging again, this time barely dodging his return strike by millimeters.

"You're slow today," Vance taunted, spinning his sword with the infuriating ease of someone who probably practiced flashy sword tricks in front of a mirror. "What's wrong? Getting too cozy with that blade? Or did you just decide to take it easy on me?"

She glared at him, her grip tightening on the hilt of her sword. "Not slow—just pacing myself. You know, letting you feel good about yourself."

Vance's grin widened. "Oh, is that what this is? Pacing yourself? Well, sweetheart, time's up."

In a blink, he rushed at her. Not just rushed—he launched himself like a human wrecking ball, sword slashing downward with all the subtlety of a freight train. She managed to block just in time, but the impact reverberated through her arm like she'd just smacked a concrete wall. Fantastic.

She could see it in his eyes—the way he was already calculating her next move, probably planning three steps ahead because that's what Vance did. He was always three steps ahead, like some annoying know-it-all chess player who had already predicted every possible outcome. If she didn't change things up now, she'd lose this sparring match like all the others and he'd never let her hear the end of it.

That's when it hit her—the bracelet. 

Oh right, the high-tech gadget literally designed to give her an edge. Duh.

As Vance geared up for another swing (probably ready to knock her halfway across the room this time), she flicked her wrist and focused. The nano-bracelet she wore hummed in response, syncing with the implant wired into her nerves—the same tech connected to her enhanced eyes. 

Her sword shimmered like it had just entered some sci-fi movie special effect, and in a second, it disintegrated into thousands of tiny metallic particles, crawling up her arm like an obedient swarm of robo-ants.

Vance, mid-strike, paused just long enough to raise an eyebrow. "Did you just—"

He didn't get to finish, because in the blink of an eye, the particles reformed, turning her weapon into something sleeker, sharper, and lighter than before. The new light weight sword practically sang as it materialized in her hand, and she could feel the difference immediately.

"Yeah," she said, flashing him a smirk. "I just upgraded. You were saying?"

She didn't give him time to react. This time, she was the one rushing forward, her speed enhanced by the new design of the blade. The sword moved like an extension of her own body—effortless, fast, and most importantly, ready to wipe that smug grin off Vance's face. 

"Woah—okay!" Vance shouted, barely managing to parry her first strike. But she wasn't done. 

She pressed forward, each strike coming faster, harder, sharper than before. Vance's usual smooth, taunting demeanor was slipping. For once, he actually had to put in some effort. His cocky grin faltered, replaced by a look of genuine concentration as he struggled to keep up.

"What's the matter, Vance?" she quipped between swings. "Not as fun when you're the one on the defensive, huh?"

His eyes narrowed, clearly not amused. "I see we're upgrading attitudes along with the tech."

She ducked under his next swing and used her enhanced speed to spin around him, bringing her blade down in a clean arc. He blocked it—barely—but the force sent him stumbling back a few steps. 

Now she was in control, and it felt good. 

"Point to me," she said, breathless but grinning like she'd just won the lottery. "What's the matter? Didn't see that coming in your 'three-steps-ahead' mental chess game?"

Vance laughed, shaking his head as he stepped back, lowering his sword in defeat. "Alright, I gotta hand it to you—that was impressive. Show-off."

She twirled her sword, feeling the lightness of it in her hand. "It's not showing off if you're just that good."

Vance wiped the sweat from his brow, eyeing her blade with a mix of suspicion and admiration. "And what? The bracelet does all the work for you now?"

She shrugged, raising her wrist to show off the bracelet. "Hey, if you've got advanced nanotech wired into your nervous system, might as well use it. It's like an extension of me now. I don't have to think—it just works."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you sleep better at night," Vance said, clearly trying to downplay his defeat. "But remember, no amount of tech is gonna save you if you're not fast enough to use it in the field. Don't let that shiny new toy make you lazy."

She shot him a smug look. "Lazy? Please. The next time we're out there, I'll be the one saving your ass."

Vance raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin creeping back onto his face. "Big words, Ninja. Better make sure that sword doesn't turn into a butter knife at the wrong time."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll save the butter knife for when I'm slicing through all the excuses you'll come up with after I wipe the floor with you."

"Touché," Vance muttered. "Let's see how well that attitude holds up out in the field."

---

As she left the training room, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. For once, she'd gotten the upper hand. But she knew Vance was right—out in the field, against those beasts and whatever else they faced, it wouldn't be a friendly sparring match. It would be life or death.

Still, with her enhanced speed, and a shiny nano-bracelet ready to transform at her command, she couldn't help but think she was more than ready for whatever came next.

Vance might have his little jabs, but she had her secret weapon—and it was just getting started.