The private training facility Iris had commandeered was designed for dangerous experimentation—reinforced walls inscribed with containment runes, medical equipment on standby, magical dampening fields that could be activated if techniques spiraled out of control. It was the kind of space where hunters pushed their affinities beyond comfortable limits, where breakthrough and catastrophic failure were separated by millimeters of control.
Iris Aero sat cross-legged in the center of the chamber, her long katana resting across her lap, small cuts already bleeding on her forearm—preparation for blood manipulation that had become routine enough to feel disturbing. Her reddish-white hair was pulled back in practical style, her brown eyes distant with concentration as she attempted something that theoretical texts said was impossible.
Geometric blood manipulation through mathematical resonance.
