In the dim morning light, an eerie stillness settled over the camp, the air thick with unspoken animosity. Sabir’s threat hung in the air, daring Elektra to make her move. To his surprise, she merely smiled, a cold, dangerous glint sparking in her eyes.


    “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that,” she said, her voice like a spark to kindling. Electricity flickered from her fingertips, coiling like a live wire. With a quick glance, Sabir noticed the lightning crawling along Zabo’s chains, but he realized too late what was happening.


    A jolt of electricity surged through Zabo’s body, forcing him to cry out in pain. His grip on Elektra weakened as the shock paralyzed him for a brief instant. Zabo jerked back, the force of the shock rippling through his muscles. He released his grip on the chains with a strangled gasp, his body writhing for a moment before he staggered back, clutching his hands.


    Zabo’s eyes widened in horror as the electricity surged through the metal. “Elektra, no—!”


    “Damn it…” Zabo hissed, grimacing as the residual charge fizzled out, leaving him winded. He shot Elektra a dark glare as he clutched his still-tingling hands, but the glint in her eyes only grew more intense.


    Elektra took advantage of the opening, wrenching herself free with a triumphant laugh. She turned her attention back to Sabir, her eyes alight with a predatory gleam. Without a second’s hesitation, she lunged toward him, bringing her leg around in a powerful kick. Sparks danced around her as she moved, crackling energy running along the length of her body and pooling in her extended foot. Sabir barely had time to react, instinctively raising his arm to block the incoming blow.


    The moment her foot connected with his hand, a searing shock raced up Sabir’s arm. He grit his teeth, refusing to cry out as the pain shot through him, sharp and unforgiving. The stench of scorched skin filled the air, and he could feel the faint tremor of Elektra’s energy continuing to pulse against his palm.


    But he held his ground, refusing to be shaken. He deflected the kick with a swift twist of his wrist, sending Elektra stumbling back just a step. Her smirk only widened, seeming to relish in the thrill of his resistance.


    “You’re quicker than I expected, Sabir,” she sneered, rolling her shoulder as if loosening up for the next attack. “Let’s see if you can keep up with this.”


    In one swift, fluid motion, Elektra pivoted on her heel, her movements sharp yet graceful, like a coiled viper striking. Her eyes gleamed with fierce determination as she raised her leg, muscles coiled with power. The air around her foot crackled, and a searing current of electricity began to coil and pulse, circling her ankle in jagged arcs of brilliant white. The energy flickered wildly, casting sharp shadows against her figure, growing brighter and more intense with each passing second. Waves of heat distorted the air between them, radiating outwards like a microwave.


    Sabir felt the change immediately, an unsettling pressure as the temperature climbed. It was as if the electricity was feeding off Elektra’s raw intent, twisting and writhing in anticipation. She held the charge a fraction of a second longer, long enough for Sabir to glimpse the deadly resolve in her eyes, the satisfaction in her smirk. And then she struck, driving her leg forward and releasing the concentrated energy in a single, blinding arc.


    The blast tore through the space between them in a flash, a spear of electricity so intense it left streaks of light imprinted on Sabir’s vision. He barely registered the attack before his reflexes kicked in, instincts honed from countless close calls in The Limbo taking over. Every muscle in his body tensed, and in a desperate, last-second move, he twisted, pivoting on his heel as the scorching blast tore past him, missing his shoulder by mere inches.


    The impact on the ground was immediate and violent. The blast struck with explosive force, sending a shockwave rippling through the ground beneath him. Dust and debris erupted into the air in a dense cloud, and Sabir staggered as he shielded his face from the searing heat. When he lowered his arm, he stared down at a crater, its edges charred black, wisps of smoke curling up from the smoldering ash.


    Sabir’s pulse hammered in his ears, his gaze locked on the scorched earth. The realization struck him: had he been a second slower, if he hadn’t twisted at the right time and angle, he would’ve been standing where that crater was now—reduced to little more than ash.


    From a safe distance, Zabo watched the exchange, his mouth slightly agape as he took in Sabir’s reaction speed. The dust was still settling, but Sabir had already repositioned himself, his breathing steady and his gaze locked on Elektra. “Damn…” Zabo muttered under his breath. “He’s using aura… somehow. Could he be… a genius?”


    Sabir’s eyes remained fixed on Elektra, his mind racing. The strike that had just missed him would have easily killed him had it landed. His hand throbbed with residual pain from the earlier shock, the skin red and blistering where her electricity had scorched him. He flexed his fingers, forcing himself to push through the discomfort. There was no room for hesitation now.


    Elektra’s smug expression didn’t waver as she observed his resilience. “I see you’ve managed to get some of that strength back,” she taunted, her voice laced with mockery. “The same strength you had back at the Commons. Come on, Sabir. Let’s finally settle this. I can face you with no regrets this time.”


    A flicker of resolve passed through Sabir’s eyes. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the adrenaline mixing with a deep, simmering anger. He knew he could use this opportunity to take her down — to rid the world of another Voltaire. The same bloodline that had taken everything from him.


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    For a moment, neither of them moved, locked in a silent, deadly standoff. The tension between them was a live wire, each braced to strike at the slightest provocation.


    Just as Sabir shifted his weight, preparing to lunge, something unexpected happened.


    Thick vines erupted from the surrounding ground, snapping through the air like whips and winding around both Sabir and Elektra. The vines twisted tightly around their arms and legs, pulling them apart before either could make another move. They strained against the binds, their furious expressions quickly morphing into ones of surprise and confusion.


    “What the—” Elektra snarled, struggling against the restraints, her electricity sparking futilely against the thick, earthy tendrils.


    Sabir looked around, trying to understand the source of the interruption, when he noticed Maize stepping forward, her outstretched hands guiding the vines with effortless control. Rudiger and Saliba appeared beside her, looking far from pleased at the spectacle.


    Rudiger, arms crossed and a look of irritation etched on his face, shook his head in disapproval. “It’s barely sunrise, and here you all are, tearing each other apart. If you want to be hunters, then maybe act the part.” His eyes narrowed as he finally took notice of Sabir, bound but standing his ground. “And the porter… how is he even still alive?”


    Maize walked over to Elektra, her voice low and urgent as she spoke. “This isn’t the time, Elektra. I don’t know what’s going on here, but whatever it is, drop it. We’ve come too far to let things spiral out of control now. We need unity, not division.”


    Elektra’s face twisted in frustration, but Maize’s words struck a chord, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. She gritted her teeth, muttering under her breath as she reluctantly stopped struggling against the vines.


    Turning back to Rudiger and Saliba, Maize forced a calm expression. “Well,” she said, her voice carrying a feigned lightness, “I can’t say I understand how Sabir made it back here in one piece, but maybe we should consider it… a miracle.”


    Saliba and Rudiger shared a look, each trying to process the implications of Maize’s words. The disbelief was clear on their faces, but they waited, allowing the scene to unfold.


    Not missing a beat, Elektra cut in, her voice dripping with venom. “It’s no miracle,” she spat. “He killed Frederick.”


    The statement hit the group like a thunderclap, and Sabir could feel the weight of their stares, each gaze burning with a mix of disbelief and accusation. Rudiger’s eyes darkened as he regarded Sabir, a skeptical frown deepening across his face. “The porter?” he asked, his tone laced with incredulity. “You’re saying this boy, a dud, somehow killed Frederick Voltaire, a literal living legend?”


    Elektra, still restrained, grunted in irritation. “Stronger than he looks,” she muttered begrudgingly, acknowledging the truth with a bitter scowl.


    Before Rudiger could respond, Warren and Zabo took a step forward, each of them carrying a fierce, protective determination in their expressions.


    “He defended himself,” Warren argued, his tone a mix of defiance and loyalty. “Frederick attacked him first. Sabir did what he had to.”


    Zabo nodded, his eyes narrowing in solidarity. “Whatever happened, it was survival, not murder.”


    Rudiger raised a hand, silencing them with a look. His gaze never wavered from Sabir, his expression hardened with a mix of doubt and respect. The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with an unspoken judgment. Sabir felt as though he was being weighed, measured, evaluated for something far beyond his control.


    Finally, Rudiger sighed, crossing his arms as he decided. “Enough. Whatever went down, it doesn’t matter right now. We have a mission, and I’ll see that the boy proves himself useful.”


    The cold finality in Rudiger’s tone left no room for argument, and a chill ran through Sabir’s veins as Rudiger’s gaze turned calculating, as though a dark plan had taken shape in his mind.


    “In fact,” Rudiger continued, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction, “The boy will serve as our front runner.”


    At Rudiger’s words, both Warren and Zabo visibly paled, the meaning of “front runner” hitting them with all the subtlety of a death sentence. Warren muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with dread. “Damn… not the front runner.”


    The phrase echoed ominously in Sabir’s mind, his instincts sounding an alarm. From the looks on their faces, this position was something no one would volunteer for.


    Unfazed by their reactions, Rudiger turned to Maize, giving a slight nod. “Release Elektra and the porter. Let’s get moving. We’re wasting daylight.”


    Maize nodded, glancing toward Sabir with a brief look of sympathy before approaching him, her hands moving carefully as she unraveled the vines around his arms and legs. As she worked, her voice softened, carrying a hint of regret.


    “The front runner,” she explained in a low tone, “is the one who goes first into the dungeon. They’re tasked with testing for traps and drawing out any monsters that might be lying in wait.” She paused, hesitating before adding, “In other words… you’ll be the first to face danger.”


    Sabir swallowed, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between Maize and the others. He knew enough about survival to understand exactly what they were asking of him. He was bait, nothing more than a sacrificial tool to keep the rest of them safe. His anger simmered beneath the surface, but he forced himself to keep calm. If he showed weakness, they’d only exploit it further.


    Maize released him from the last of the vines, stepping back to give him a faint nod, as if apologizing in her own way for the situation. But her expression remained guarded. She couldn’t afford to show too much empathy, not with the others watching so closely.


    Sabir glanced toward the smoldering crater Elektra had created, a grim reminder of what he was up against. He was outnumbered, out-powered, and yet somehow still alive—a fact that seemed to baffle and irritate everyone around him, especially Elektra.


    “Great,” Sabir muttered under his breath, rolling his shoulder and stretching out his arms now that he was free. “So I’m basically cannon fodder.”


    Maize’s expression tightened slightly, though she said nothing, choosing instead to step aside as Rudiger stepped forward, his gaze assessing Sabir with a chilling detachment.


    “You got it,” Rudiger replied, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk. “Your survival means nothing to us, but your death could mean everything.”