Ten training dolls stood scattered around the field—each one taller than her, built from thick wood and metal joints, their eyes glowing faint red. A single brighter red mark pulsed on their chests. Hitting that mark shut them down. Breaking them, however, meant losing points.
The dolls came alive at once.
Their heads jerked up. Their limbs snapped into motion with sharp, mechanical bursts, and they rushed towards her.
Elana didn't flinch.
She sank slightly at the knees, her batons sliding into her palms with a smooth click. They moved like they were grown from her bones—an extension of her arms, not handheld tools.
The first doll swung a heavy arm at her head.
Elana stepped in, not back.
Her baton shot up, sliding along its forearm, guiding the strike past her ear. In the same motion she spun, snapping the other baton into the glowing mark on its chest.
A dull thunk.
The light died.
The doll froze mid-step.
"Did you see that?!" someone whispered from the stands.
