Page 168 of Interion

Zion laughed as he answered.

“When he told me this, I didn’t know it was Lagherta. She fought with far more than ten movements, Kay, but these were the most basic ones she was able to teach Serguei properly before he left Drutes.”

I was stunned. I would learn to fight like my mother, the greatest warrior of Drutes.

“When you can do them without thinking—that is, when your body performs them unconsciously—and you can use them to anticipate what kind of attack is coming, we’ll add more movements derived from these.”

“Anticipate? Zion, nobody can predict another person’s next move.”

“I know it sounds crazy now—I thought so too when Serguei first taught me—but trust me, you’ll understand soon. This fighting style is based on reading body language.”

He smiled encouragingly. We were in position, but I had so many questions. I remembered Zion fighting in the alley—just a blur of shadows, his movements precise and controlled.

“You can anticipate because the shadows tell you. For Serguei, it’s easy too—he reads the movement in his opponent’s mind before it’s even formed. Maybe you’re wrong about this,” I theorized with a pout. I couldn’t understand the movements even when he did them in slow motion.

“Then how do you explain Lagherta doing this with such a low healing level? She could take down Serguei even when he read her next attack in her mind. She intercepted him no matter what he did, as if the movements were part of her muscles rather than her brain.”

Once again, I found myself surprised by this information. My mother could defeat even Serguei in hand-to-hand combat. That was incredible—and terrifying.

“Serguei always said that fighting is a lot like reading. You glance at the shape and beginning of a word, and your brain fills in the rest. When we fight, we read someone's initial body language: where the opponent looks, how their muscles tense for the next strike, even how their breathing changes as they attack. This gives us major clues about the next movement, and in milliseconds, our body reacts by blocking the blow.”

In theory, what he said made sense, but in practice, it seemed almost impossible. He settled into position with his knees bent.

“Talking won't help you at all, so let's train.” He flashed a dangerous smile, something like an invitation. “Attack me with everything you've got.”

I got into position, butterflies filling my stomach as he watched me.

“What's your safe word going to be?” I asked, readying myself.

“I don't need one.” His confident smile widened.

So I attacked him with all my strength, but he blocked me just as he'd taught. I went for a second attack and he pushed me away with a low kick. I tried to distract him and started attacking without any set pattern, but no matter what I did, I never came close to touching him. After an hour of this, I gave up trying to take him down. I just repeated the movements like a choreographed dance: I attacked, he blocked. A punch and his guard was already up; a sweep and he dodged by jumping or stepping aside. If I tried a chokehold, he was out of reach in seconds.

“I'm curious about something,” he said with a different gleam in his eyes, pulling me out of my trance. I attacked again, but he didn't even seem to be trying.

“Ask,” I said, moving into my next strike.

Zion watched me more closely, his eyes burning.

“Which nation is your sexual nature from?” He dodged and blocked a blow I'd thrown with full force. I immediately froze mid-movement. “Keep going, don't stop attacking—this is training too. Talk while you attack; your body will memorize better that way.”

I resumed my attack and we continued for a few more minutes. He seemed to be waiting for an answer, and his smile only grew as my cheeks flushed in equal measure.

“I don't think I understood the question.”

Zion blocked in a way that pressed our bodies together, but I quickly twisted my torso and almost landed a kick to his ribs.

“Why do you want to know that?”

My face was so flushed that color experts could have classified it as “embarrassment red.”

“To understand what I'm dealing with,” Zion replied with a mischievous smile that made my legs go weak.

“What do you mean?” I tried to sidestep the subject. “I'm not answering without a clear reason.”

“What I want to know…” He dodged another blow, still maintaining eye contact. “Is whether your sexual nature is also Drutes.”

I analyzed the question as if it were a medical case I needed to solve. What was a Drutes sexual nature?