I stared at the distant horizon as the third day stretched longer than usual.
It felt like time itself had thickened, each passing second dragging against my thoughts instead of slipping by unnoticed.
The wind moved across the arena, dry and uneven, carrying grains of sand that brushed against my skin in faint, persistent strokes.
The memories didn't stop either.
Not even for a moment.
They lingered beneath everything, like a quiet, unending whisper threading through my thoughts.
I tried to silence them.
Didn't work—so I gave up.
Slowly, I lowered my gaze to my palm.
CLING
The chains responded the moment I moved, rattling sharply as I drove my fist forward into empty air.
The glowing links scraped against each other, metal grinding with a low hum that traveled up my arm and settled deep in my chest.
I exhaled through my nose, steady and controlled.
There was no enemy.
I don't even know why I did that.
The chains swayed faintly from my wrist, catching the dim light as they settled.
My fingers tightened slightly, and the chains answered with a softer, quieter rattle.
For the first time, I understood why people grew attached to weapons.
Not because they protected you—
but because they never hesitated.
Still, the thought sat wrong....
Weapons didn't protect people.
They just decided how something ended.
I let the contradiction remain.
Didn't bother resolving it.
The wind shifted again, brushing past my face as the word surfaced in my mind.
Madman.
Psycho.
They probably think I'm one of them.
Maybe they were right.
Or maybe they just hadn't seen enough to understand.
"Hey."
The voice carried faintly through the wind, soft at first, almost lost beneath the shifting air.
I didn't turn immediately.
For a moment, I stood still, listening—to the low whistle of the wind, the faint clink of the chains, the slow rhythm of my own breathing—before finally shifting my gaze.
Astrid. Her figure came into focus as she approached, boots pressing into the sand with soft, deliberate crunches. Each step was measured, controlled and hesitant.
She wasn't afraid. But she wasn't at ease. Not anymore.
"You're the last person I want to talk to right now—"
My voice came out flat, the words steady but stripped of anything unnecessary. She didn't react to it. Didn't argue.
Instead, she tossed something toward me.
The fragment cut cleanly through the air, spinning once with a faint metallic whistle before landing in my hand with a light, almost insignificant tap.
It should've felt weightless.
It didn't.
"Take it."
I glanced at it briefly before lifting my gaze back to her.
"You know I've already awakened, right?"
"I know what you did with the chains. Layla told me everything."
"Layla?" My brow tightened slightly. "How do you know her?"
"We formed an alliance."
The word lingered for a moment.
Too clean. Too simple.
"Oh. Right," I said quietly. "Another performance."
"Be a little mature—"
"Mature?"
The word didn't rise.
It dropped—low, controlled and almost calm.
I stepped forward, sand grinding beneath my boots, the sound sharper in the quiet space between us.
"Right."
A breath left me, short, almost resembling a laugh—but not quite.
The chains moved.
They shot outward with a sharp metallic hiss, links extending rapidly before locking onto a distant structure with a solid, echoing clang. The tension snapped tight instantly.
I pulled. The force lifted me off the ground without resistance, wind rushing past my ears in a sharp, cutting whistle as the arena blurred beneath me. The chains adjusted mid-motion, shifting angles seamlessly, guiding my movement with unnatural precision.
Another extension—another pull—each motion smoother than the last.
Controlled. I released just before impact.
THUD
My boots hit the ground hard, sand erupting outward in a dry burst that scattered across the surface in a rough wave.
The particles hissed faintly as they settled, some catching in the air before drifting down.
Carlos coughed, turning his head slightly as he waved a hand through the dust.
"Quite a dramatic entrance," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he rested the mace against his shoulder.
Layla didn't react.
She didn't even look at me.
For a moment, I watched her anyway.
Then I let it go.
"Do you know where the next fragment will be supplied?" I asked, rolling my shoulders slightly.
"Not a clue," Carlos replied, tapping the base of his mace lightly against the ground. The impact produced a low, dense thud.
"Maps become useless once a fragment's taken."
Layla adjusted her grip on her sword, the faint scrape of metal against leather barely audible.
"When do you think we'll get the next ones?"
Carlos shrugged, the movement loose.
"We're just waiting. Walking around to pass the time."
"Right."
His gaze drifted back to the chains.
"Your new weapon… may I?"
He reached out.
"No."
The response came immediately.
His hand stopped in air.
"Don't touch it."
A brief pause.
"It'll burn you," I added, my tone unchanged. "Dan tried to."
"I see…" Carlos withdrew his hand slowly, the faint crunch of sand marking the shift in his stance. "What a pity."
The air changed.
A subtle distortion, like heat bending light, spread outward.
[Attention candidates, instead of a single supply drop, there will now be two.]
[A map with two marked destinations will be given to you shortly.]
[Good luck.]
"Two…" I muttered.
The chains reacted instinctively, shifting with a low glowing pulse, as if responding to something unseen.
"Supply…" Carlos adjusted his grip, fingers tightening around the shaft of his mace.
"Drops," Layla finished, her voice quieter but steady.
A flicker passed through the air.
The maps appeared. Floating. Edges faintly glowing, surfaces shifting slightly as if not entirely anchored to reality.
For a moment, none of us moved. Just watched.
We measured and calculated.
I stepped forward first, boots pressing into the sand with a deliberate, grounded weight.
"Follow me."
A brief pause.
"I know a shortcut." A small smile formed.