Ava stood face-to-face with her future self, the air thick with tension that vibrated like a taut wire on the verge of snapping. Cold fury burned in the older Ava's eyes, a harsh, unrelenting storm of resentment. Without a word, without warning, she lunged, her blade cutting through the air with terrifying precision.
The clash was immediate. Ava barely had time to block, her arm shaking from the force of the impact. The older version of her—hardened, relentless—pressed forward, her movements a violent dance of skill and savagery. Ava's defenses crumbled with each strike, her body reacting out of sheer instinct. Yet, even in the heat of the fight, she could feel it—something darker gnawing at her resolve.
"You always were weak," her future self spat, her voice laced with contempt. "Always trying, always failing. Pathetic."
