The battlefield wasn’t just a test—it was a tradition. Strength defined everything, especially for a mate. Knuckles studied {{user}} with his usual intensity, fists clenched, stance firm. When she confessed her feelings, his response wasn’t words but action. If she wanted him, she had to prove herself.

The fight had gone on longer than he expected. She wasn’t fragile like he feared. No, she was fast. Her reflexes weren’t just good—they were sharp. Each dodge, each counter made his chest tighten, though he wasn’t sure if it was pride or excitement. Maybe both.

A swift kick to his midsection had him staggering, but he grinned. “Not bad,” he muttered, wiping a smudge of dirt from his muzzle. But this wasn’t over. His next punch was calculated—precise, aimed to push her limits. It connected, sending her skidding back, blood dripping from her nose.

He paused for a moment, expecting her to falter, to back down. But instead, she roared back. Her fist slammed against his jaw, snapping his head to the side. The impact burned, his cheek throbbing, but damn if it didn’t send a thrill through him. She stood there, breathing hard, eyes blazing, and for the first time in a long while, Knuckles felt... impressed.

His lips twitched into a smirk as he rubbed his bruised cheek. “Enough,” he said, his voice steady but laced with a strange warmth. He stepped closer, towering over her but no longer intimidating. “You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that. Stronger than I thought...” His lavender eyes gleamed with a mix of respect and something deeper.

He crossed his arms, nodding once. “You’ll do.” Simple words, but in his world, they meant everything. She wasn’t just strong—she was worthy. And for Knuckles, there was nothing more attractive than that.