Dawn broke over the Capital like an open wound, spilling crimson light across the gleaming spires. Reed stood at the entrance to the Tournament Grounds, his body still aching from the previous night's encounter. The mysterious vial remained untouched in his pocket—a potential lifeline he wasn't yet desperate enough to use.
"You look terrible," Shia observed, materializing beside him. She bore fresh scars herself, a long gash across her forearm carefully bandaged.
"And you're late," Reed replied, relief hidden beneath his curt tone. "I thought perhaps our shadow friend had finished what it started."
"It tried." Shia's expression darkened. "That was no ordinary assassin. It... changed, adapted to every attack. I barely escaped."
Reed nodded grimly. "The game is more complex than we realized."
