The stairway into the underground was narrow, rusted, and dimly lit with red hazard bulbs.
Every step creaked under Zain's boots as he followed Velra deeper into the slums of BC-3.
She didn't say a word.
She didn't have to.
At the bottom, a cold storage chamber had been repurposed.
It was turned into a private chamber of chains, tools, and restraint seals.
In the center of the room, tied upright to a fractured support pillar, was the short, blue-haired girl.
She was now in human form.
Ears perked, hands injured, breathing shallow.
Her ankles and wrists were bound with reinforced shackles.
Bruises lined her arms.
A cut along her cheek still glowed faintly red.
Zain looked at her, then back at Velra.
"Your doing?" he asked casually.
Velra nodded once, expression unreadable.
"She didn't talk."
Zain stepped forward, examining the girl's injuries.
"Hmph. You used the warrior method, huh?"
Velra didn't respond.
