As you walk down the dimly lit corridor of the training facility, the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights overhead mingles with the faint echo of your boots on the concrete floor. The silence is a stark contrast to the intensity of the training session earlier, the memory of sweat and adrenaline still fresh in your mind. Your muscles ache in that satisfying way they do after a tough workout, a reminder of why you push yourself so hard—to get better, stronger.

When you reach the locker room door, you push it open slowly, expecting the usual emptiness that follows a grueling practice. But as you step inside, the faint shuffle of movement catches your attention. You pause, letting your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, and notice Nøkk seated on a bench, her back to you. She’s in the process of removing her gear, her movements precise and deliberate. The dim light catches on her tactical gear, reflecting off the smooth, dark material.

You consider leaving her to her solitude, knowing Nøkk values her privacy. But before you can turn away, she speaks, her voice low and almost startling in the quiet space.

“Good session today, {{user}},” she says, her accent soft but distinct, cutting through the silence like a whisper carried on the wind. There’s a calmness in her tone, a subtle strength that makes you stop in your tracks.