"So this is how I got notified about this place," the figure said, voice low, almost amused.
He twirled the shard once, studying the fracture as though appraising a clever sculpture, claws flexing against Dot until her light dimmed another shade.
"Someone managed to rip a shard in half. Wondrous, I'd say."
Each syllable carried an odd reverence—like praise for a clever experiment—yet the pressure in the air suggested he could end the experiment at a whim.
His gaze slid to Kikaru, unreadable eyes narrowing by a fraction.
The red lining of his cloak caught the torchlight and sent it skipping across his stark silhouette, painting a brief smear of color that vanished when he tilted his head, a faint smile touching the corner of his mouth.
On the arena's edge, the Announcer swiped a trembling hand through the interface only he could see, lenses strobing between error codes and unknown‑entity alerts.
"Protect that shard's half, Kikaru," he barked, the order cracking like a whip.
