Nyx and Sam landed on solid ground, the lingering sensation of teleportation rippling through their bodies like an aftershock. The sudden shift in environment was almost jarring.

  Gone were the scorched battlefields, the suffocating stench of gunpowder, and the looming presence of Sentinel patrols. Instead, they were met with something wholly unfamiliar.

  Wide, pristine roads stretched before them, framed by sleek, modern buildings untouched by war. The air smelled different—crisp, filtered, as if even the atmosphere had been curated to perfection. Artificial sunlight cast a golden glow over the district, highlighting the towering palm trees that swayed gently along the sidewalks.

  It was… a resort.

  Nyx’s steps slowed, her eyes scanning the strange in-between space. The Delta Zone was more than just a checkpoint—it was a manufactured oasis, a resting ground designed to lull participants into a fleeting sense of peace before the next stage of the tournament tore them apart again.

  Luxury hotels loomed overhead, their sleek facades advertising five-star accommodations. Neon-lit storefronts boasted everything from high-grade weaponry to casual fashion, while massive entertainment complexes lined the streets—a cinema, a casino, even a high-end bowling alley. The entire place pulsed with energy, a stark contrast to the brutal reality that awaited beyond it.

  Sam let out a low whistle, hands resting on his hips as he took in the sight. “Now this—this is what the tournament should’ve been. Skip the murder games, keep the five-star getaway. Everybody wins.” He stretched his arms above his head, looking almost impressed. “I mean, come on. A casino? We could’ve just gambled our way to an early retirement.”

  Nyx barely heard him.

  They walked further into the district, weaving through the steady flow of participants. A nearby café bustled with activity, where a few contestants sat on an outdoor terrace, sipping drinks as if they weren’t trapped in a battle for survival. Further down, a group gathered around a massive holographic billboard displaying tournament statistics—player rankings, recorded fights, even betting odds on who would survive the next stage.

  “They’re really making a show out of this,” Sam muttered, eyeing a vendor selling luxury meals, completely out of place in an event built on bloodshed. “Can’t tell if it’s genius or messed up. Either way, it’s one hell of a way of entertaining.”

  Nyx still wasn’t listening.

  Her gaze swept over the crowd. Participants filled the streets, moving with varying levels of tension—some relaxed, indulging in temporary luxury, while others walked with cold precision, their minds already set on survival. A group emerged from one of the supply shops, arms filled with bags of rations and medical kits. Nearby, the sharp clatter of combat echoed from a large open-air training ground, where fighters were already testing their skills.

  Her eyes lingered there.

  A handful of participants stood out among the sparring groups.

  A short, blonde guy. A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark skin.

  And—

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  A familiar figure.

  Nigel.

  Her body locked up as if a fist had clenched around her ribcage, squeezing the air from her lungs. The world around her blurred, drowned beneath the rush of memories slamming into her like a tidal wave.

  A younger Nigel—sharp-eyed, brimming with quiet defiance, standing in front of her during training. The slight smirk tugging at his lips when he effortlessly took down a superior officer in hand-to-hand combat. The rare moments when he let his guard down just enough for a real conversation.

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  Then—

  Blood. Screams. The clinking of chains against cold concrete.

  A broken boy, covered in wounds, barely breathing.

  She inhaled sharply, forcing herself back to the present.

  This wasn’t then. This wasn’t the past.

  But looking at him now, standing there—alive, whole, yet irrevocably different—Nyx wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

  She blinked. The memories overlapped with reality.

  For a second, the past and present blurred together—Nigel, no longer a broken remnant of what he once was, now standing tall, sparring with his companions. Every movement was precise, controlled, a sharp contrast to the reckless, desperate boy she last remembered.

  He was alive. He was there.

  “Hello?”

  Fingers snapped in front of her face.

  Nyx flinched, barely holding back the instinct to react on muscle memory alone. Her eyes refocused just in time to see Sam staring at her, arms crossed, brow raised.

  "You good?" He studied her, his usual smirk absent. "Thought I lost you there for a second."

  Nyx exhaled, steadying herself. "...I’m fine."

  "Yeah, sure." Sam’s tone dripped with disbelief as he followed her gaze—then, finally, he saw him. " Oh. Huh. That really is him." He let out a low whistle. "Gotta hand it to our ‘contact’—skipping the first stage really put us right where we needed to be.”

  Nyx didn’t move.

  A hundred scenarios ran through her mind in an instant.

  Should she approach? Wait for the right moment? Would he even want to see her again?

  Her fingers curled into fists.

  Sam, however, was already done with the overthinking.

  "Oh, hell no." He turned to her with a look of sheer exasperation. "We did not sneak into the Second Ring, hitchhike on a goddamn train, and deal with cryptic masked weirdos just for you to stand here like a statue."

  Nyx said nothing.

  Sam sighed through his nose. Then, without warning—

  He shoved her forward.

  "Go," he said. "Say hi for me."

  Nyx inhaled sharply, shooting him a glare over her shoulder, but he just grinned, completely unapologetic.

  She forced her legs to move.

  Her steps were steady at first, her usual confidence keeping her posture straight. Sam followed behind, hands in his pockets, silent for once.

  But the closer she got, the heavier her body felt.

  Her pace slowed. A strange, suffocating weight curled in her chest, growing heavier with every step.

  Nigel was right there. She hadn't seen him in years. Hadn’t heard his voice since—

  No.

  She pushed the memories away.

  Her feet dragged. Her breath hitched.

  The last few meters felt impossible. Her mind screamed at her to keep going, but her body resisted, as if something—no, as if she herself—was holding her back.

  Sam sighed dramatically.

  "Gods above, you’re impossible."

  Without another word, he gave her one last, small push.

  Nyx stumbled forward.

  She caught herself just in time, stopping just a few meters away from him.

  Nigel had his back turned, finishing a smooth, fluid motion with his scythe.

  Then—

  He stilled. Slowly, he turned.

  Their eyes met. Violet and amber.

  The world around them dimmed, as if everything else had momentarily ceased to exist.

  Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved.

  They just stared.

  And then—

  Dovak’s palm struck Nigel’s back with a loud smack, making him lurch forward slightly.

  "Oi, focus! You keep zoning out—what’s wrong with you?"

  Nigel blinked, shaking himself back to reality. His gaze flickered from Dovak back to her.

  Nyx took a hesitant step forward, but before she could speak—

  "Hey," Nigel said. His voice was calm, almost casual. "Been a while."

  Nyx froze. He approached me first?

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  Nigel studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, after a beat—

  "What are you doing here? Thought you had duties with the Wardens."

  Nyx swallowed, forcing herself to speak. "Some… things happened."

  She hated how uncertain she sounded.

  Sam, ever the opportunist, took the chance to cut the suffocating tension.

  "Whew! So this is the Nigel, huh?" He grinned, stepping forward. "Gotta say, I’ve heard a lot about you."

  His gaze flicked briefly to Dovak, something unreadable passing through his expression—mild curiosity, maybe something else.

  "Really?" Nigel arched an eyebrow.

  "Oh yeah," Sam continued, smirking. "Nyx never shuts up about—"

  A sharp glare from Nyx cut him off instantly.

  Sam coughed. "Ahem. Anyway, nice to meet you, kid."

  Nigel barely reacted, his eyes shifting between her and Sam before settling back on Nyx.

  A pause.

  Then—

  "You wanna get a drink?" he asked. "To catch up."

  Nyx’s breath caught.

  She had prepared for a hundred different scenarios. Coldness. Resentment. Maybe even indifference. Not…this. Not a simple invitation, like nothing had changed.

  Sam, of course, was already grinning like an idiot.

  "Oh, you must absolutely go," he said, far too entertained, before turning to Dovak and William. "C’mon, let’s leave these two alone before the tension strangles us."

  Dovak snorted, throwing a knowing glance at Nyx before patting Nigel on the back again.

  "Try not to be too awkward, buddy."

  Nigel shot him a dry look.

  William simply nodded, offering Nyx a small, polite smile before walking off with the others. That left just the two of them.

  Nyx exhaled slowly. "Alright," she said, her voice steadier now. "Lead the way."

  And with that, she followed him into the crowd.