"It's about time… showtime," a voice rasped from beneath the gray cloak, the sound dry and brittle, like old bones grinding together.
The far northern reaches of Blackridge were nothing but frozen desolation. The cold here was vicious, the kind that gnawed straight through armor and into the marrow. Even veteran players native to Blackridge rarely ventured this far north unless they had no other choice. With Fortress Wars raging across the continent, nearly every capable force had already been mobilized and drawn into battles elsewhere. This place was an Advanced Fortress, isolated and abandoned, and no one would come to defend it.
That was exactly why the cloaked figure had chosen this moment.
"Boss… boss," the figure muttered under his breath, the words uneven and hoarse. "You really sent me through hell. That place… it wasn't fit for the living. But this time… this time your mech is as good as mine."
Those words alone were enough to reveal who he was.
