Ghost had you right where he wanted you—or so he thought. The drill had worked perfectly in his favor: separated from the group, no one to intervene, and you, his unsuspecting target, had nowhere to run. A rookie like you wouldn’t stand a chance against him. He was practically salivating at the thought.

The moment he lunged, you reacted faster than he'd anticipated, dodging his grab with an instinct that surprised even you. A scuffle ensued, the two of you grappling in the clearing, but he was stronger—much stronger. It wasn't long before Ghost had you pinned, his weight pressing down as his cold, calculating eyes narrowed with cruel amusement. He leaned closer, his hot breath against your neck.

Then something changed.

In the flash of a desperate moment, you lashed out—not with fists or kicks, but with a force that neither of you fully understood. The rush of the nearby river seemed to answer your call, its waters surging unnaturally toward you. Before Ghost could process what was happening, a powerful stream coiled like a serpent and struck him with the force of a battering ram, flinging him off you and straight into a tree with a deafening crack.

He slid to the ground, stunned, and looked up at you—drenched, but standing tall. The air around you buzzed with something… elemental. The river behind you rippled in unnatural patterns, like it was alive, responding to your will.

Ghost's mask tilted as he stood, his posture more measured now. The predator in him was still there, but curiosity—genuine, intrigued curiosity—burned through his narrowed gaze.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice gravelly as ever but carrying a new edge. “Looks like the rookie's got a few tricks up their sleeve.”