Anna hadn't warned him about her presence—or maybe she had, but he couldn't recall. Leonardo stood there, bewildered, realizing too late that he was still naked.

  His heart raced as he scrambled towards the countertop, hands fumbling to cover himself with the long white sleeved cloth, awkwardly holding his vest and trousers in a feeble attempt to regain some semblance of dignity.

  He turned to face her, and in that instant, her eyes were cold, like sharpened daggers poised to strike.

  Her again.

  She spoke, her voice a low, deliberate drawl that dripped with menace. "Go ahead, make a move. I dare you. I'll paint these bathroom walls with your last breath, end your story with one sharp, brutal cut. So what's it gonna be—silence, or a spectacular demise?"

  Her words hung in the air, echoing through the confines of the room, amplifying the tension to a near palpable thickness.

  Leonardo froze, paralyzed by the venom in her tone. It reverberated in his ears, each syllable like the ticking of a countdown clock. His mind flashed back to Anna's warning, or was it a memory of someone else's voice? The realization crashed down on him—if he didn't act smartly, this woman, this unexpected woman, might just Kill him right here and now.

  She stared him down, her eyes narrowing, hands beginning to glow with an intense, unnatural Red heat. He remembered the sensation from earlier on the balcony, how the scorching blast had almost pierced through Elaras's barrier, denting it as it sliced the air beneath him.

  The memory of the searing heat, the way it scorched the floor beneath him, sent a shiver down his spine. Why did everyone seem so desperate to kill him? What had he done so wrong? The bathroom, once a cold sanctuary, now felt like a furnace, the winter chill displaced by an oppressive, stifling warmth.

  It reminded him of when he touched the knob of the entrance door—the sensation of heat, yet not quite heat, an energy that gnawed at the edges of his senses.

  But this wasn't just heat; it was something more. She wasn't acting like this before; up on the higher floors when he first saw her, she had been distant, cloaked in the safety of shadows.

  But here, under the unrelenting brightness of the bathroom lights, her presence was oppressive, overwhelming.

  His mind flickered to something Anna had mentioned—her mother was a double category, transmuter, capable of converting energy.

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  Was she attempting to transmute Rasvian energy into heat? Or was she fumbling, unable to control it perfectly? His thoughts tumbled over one another as he instinctively took a step back, his bare feet cold against the tiled floor, just as she advanced, his grip tightening on the sink as it touched him.

  Leonardo's thoughts were erratic, caught between fear and the desperate urge to survive.

  The sensation pressing against him was more than just heat; it felt like pressure, an invisible hand crushing down on him. She raised her hand, slow but deliberate, and he recognized the intent—the threat.

  Suddenly, text appeared before his eyes, faintly glowing and obscuring his view of her.

  [Adaptive Evolution]

  Ah, was it trying to appear earlier? It doesn't matter now; this is a life-or-death situation, his skill says that—it must be. The words pulsed weakly, but Leonardo couldn't afford to be distracted now.

  His skill had triggered—some form of adaptation—He knew whatever effect or enhancement he was about to gain, it had to involve speed, even if it was just a minor boost.

  How minor? He should test that out, if he manages to survive this.

  She moved, and so did he. Instinct took over as he sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the searing blast that radiated outward in a blinding streak of crimson.

  It collided with the glass behind him, a single minute hole appeared minor cracks appear, it scorching hot, shards cascading like lethal rain. The text solidified in his vision:

  [Slight Resistance to Heat]

  A surge of disbelief almost knocked him off balance. He clutched the sink to steady himself, his improvised cover still wrapped tightly around his waist, the fabric beginning to dampen with his sweat.

  He barely had time to process this meager enhancement before her voice cut through his thoughts once more.

  "I told you not to move," she snarled, her second hand already raised, poised to strike again. The air between them crackled with the promise of another attack.

  Leonardo's mind raced—he didn't think his attachment skill could offer him another boost, at least not so soon.

  He recalled how it had granted him three enhancements while fighting Altan, Perhaps it provided three enhancements while fighting Altan because that was destined to be raw, unbridled combat.

  Enhancements—maybe that's when those types appear, during a fight.

  This was different. He wasn't sure what his skill could provide in this context since it was a minor resistance, no matter.

  if that thing hit him point blank he would be dead. but it had to be enough or Dead again.

  Each movement she made seemed slow, not because she was sluggish, Leonardo thought, the way the woman raises her hand—it was slow, Not that but slower compared to the time he had the skill, how it provided him with a slightly heightened perception during the time Richard almost hit him with that crossbow how it grazed his skin leading trickles of blood to flow.

  Did his eyes get larger, his iris perhaps? Whatever it was, it made him see better, he couldn't catch every twitch of her muscles, every micro-adjustment she made as she prepared to unleash her power, but he was able to see, she isnt used to this power, maybe she was but was her edge.

  The world seemed to blur at the edges, his focus narrowing to the singular threat in front of him.

  She exhaled, her breath visible in the charged atmosphere, and Leonardo braced himself, his mind grasping for any possible escape. Was there anything else Adaptive Evolution could grant him now?

  Definitely not.