The house was small but sturdy. It was simple—two rooms, a compact kitchen, and, most importantly, a functioning bathroom. Someone had clearly prepared it in advance, ensuring it had just enough supplies to last a few days.

  Samuel unlocked the door and stepped aside. “It’s not much, but it’ll serve. There’s food, water, and a place to sleep. Get some rest—you’ll need it.”

  Nyx entered first, scanning every corner out of habit. The space was clean, practical. No personal touches, no unnecessary decorations. Just the bare minimum, like everything in her life had been for years.

  Behind her, Sam ducked slightly to squeeze through the narrow doorway, his broad frame making the space feel even smaller. He rolled his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness of the long journey. His silver hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in every direction from days of travel.

  He took one look around and clapped his hands together. “Alright, I call dibs on the shower.”

  Nyx grabbed his collar before he could take another step. “No. You wait.”

  Sam groaned but didn’t argue. He knew better. Though she stood just a little shorter than him, she had a presence that could make anyone feel small. Her slim frame was deceptive, hiding dense muscle beneath the worn combat suit she still hadn’t changed out of. Even after everything, her violet eyes remained sharp, unwavering.

  Without another word, she disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

  By the time she emerged, cleaner than she’d been in days, Sam was sprawled across the couch, arms thrown dramatically over his head.

  “Finally,” he muttered, dragging himself upright. He barely spared her a glance before pushing himself to his feet. “Right. My turn.”

  He grabbed his things and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Nyx alone in the quiet.

  She sat at the small table in the living area, towel-drying the ends of her damp hair. Her body ached, exhaustion settling into her bones now that the adrenaline had worn off. The last few days had been a blur—radio calls, train-hopping, an unexpected meeting that only led to more questions. And now, waiting. Again.

  She exhaled slowly, letting her head tip back against the chair.

  The sound of running water from the bathroom faded into background noise as her mind drifted. There was no telling how long they’d be stuck here. Hours? Days? Bernard hadn’t given them a timeframe, just vague instructions to stay put. She hated waiting. Hated sitting still. Every second felt wasted.

  A few minutes later, Sam reappeared, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. He looked less miserable now, though his usual smirk was absent, replaced by something more neutral.

  He plopped into the chair across from her. “Alright. What’s next?”

  Nyx crossed her arms. “We wait for the signal. Could be tomorrow. Could be in a few days. Either way, we stay low and stay sharp.”

  Sam exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Not a fan of waiting. You know I like action.”

  Nyx smirked faintly. “Figured.”

  Sam leaned back, studying her for a moment. Then, his voice dropped a little. “You think this is a good idea?”

  A long pause stretched between them.

  “…No,” she admitted finally. “But it’s the only one we’ve got.”

  Sam blew out a breath, pushing his chair back. “Well, here’s hoping we don’t regret it.” He stretched, letting out a loud yawn. “Alright, boss. I’m crashing. Wake me if the world ends.”

  Nyx didn’t respond, only giving a small nod as he disappeared into one of the rooms.

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  She sat there for a little while longer, letting the silence settle.

  Tomorrow, they’d see what came next.

  Two days passed by.

  Nyx was already awake when the radio crackled to life, the sharp static cutting through the early morning stillness.

  She grabbed the device from the nightstand, bringing it to her ear. “Nyx.”

  Bernard’s voice came through, calm as ever. “Get to the hut. Now.”

  Nyx frowned. “The meeting was scheduled in two hours.”

  “I know. But our contact has arrived ahead of schedule.”

  That got her attention. She sat up fully, brushing strands of violet hair from her face. “Understood. We’re on our way.”

  From the other room, a groggy voice groaned in protest. “You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s barely dawn.”

  “Get up,” Nyx ordered, already pulling on her boots.

  Sam staggered out a moment later, silver hair a tangled mess, rubbing his eyes. “What, did your radio boyfriend wake you up again?”

  “Bernard,” she corrected flatly, adjusting the holster on her thigh. “He says the contact is waiting.”

  That made Sam pause mid-yawn, his hand lowering slightly. “Wait—the one getting us into the tournament?”

  Nyx nodded.

  Sam let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the remnants of sleep. “Alright. Give me five minutes.”

  They moved efficiently, gathering their gear and ensuring everything was in place before stepping outside. The city was still waking, the streets quiet under the soft glow of the rising sun.

  Nyx led the way, her pace steady but urgent. Every step felt heavier than the last, anticipation curling in her stomach. She had no idea what to expect, and she hated that.

  Within minutes, they reached the secluded hut. The door was slightly ajar, the faint scent of old wood and dust lingering in the air as they stepped inside.

  Bernard was already there, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. His gaze flicked toward them, but Nyx barely noticed—her attention was drawn immediately to the figure standing beside him.

  The contact was a silhouette of pure black.

  Their clothing was seamless, smooth—almost too smooth. Even their hands were covered in the same dark material, and beneath the hood, a featureless mask concealed any trace of identity. They stood unnaturally still, radiating an air of controlled patience, as if their presence alone warped the space around them.

  And then, they spoke.

  “You are finally here.”

  The voice sent a subtle but undeniable chill down Nyx’s spine. Deep. Resonant. Neither distinctly male nor female. The words seemed to carry weight, as though they didn’t just speak—but imposed themselves into the room.

  Sam stiffened beside her. His usual carefree demeanor cracked, replaced by wary tension.

  The figure took a single, deliberate step forward. “You stand before a unique opportunity. Do not waste it.”

  Nyx narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one arranging our entry?”

  “I am.”

  There was no hesitation in the reply, no room for doubt.

  “Skipping the first stage is no small matter,” the contact continued. “Consider it a privilege. One that will not be offered again.”

  Bernard remained where he was, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

  Sam, however, was far less patient. He frowned, shifting his weight slightly. “Alright, so what’s the catch?”

  The contact turned their head toward him, the movement eerily smooth.

  “You carry hope.”

  Sam blinked. “...What?”

  “The gears have begun turning. You must move forward, or they will stall. If they stall, the mechanism will never open. And without that… the truth will remain buried.”

  Silence thickened the air.

  Nyx didn’t react, but she felt Sam shift beside her, his muscles tensing. They were both used to cryptic nonsense, but something about the way the figure spoke—calm, absolute—made it impossible to dismiss.

  Before either of them could demand clarification, the contact reached into their cloak and produced two small, metallic devices, no larger than a coin.

  “These will take you to the first Delta Zone.”

  Nyx took one, rolling it between her fingers. The surface was impossibly smooth—no markings, no seams, nothing to indicate how it worked.

  Sam hesitated before grabbing his. “So that’s it? No more weird riddles? No last-minute life advice?”

  The figure remained still.

  Then—without a sound, without the slightest shift in the air—they vanished.

  Not teleported. Not walked away.

  One moment they were there. The next, the space where they stood was empty.

  Sam took a step back, eyes widening. “Okay, that’s new.”

  Nyx’s gaze lingered on the empty space, her grip tightening around the device.

  Bernard finally pushed off the table, his voice unusually careful. “I don’t know who they are,” he admitted, “but they’re not someone you ignore.”

  Nyx turned to him, studying his face. “Who arranged this meeting?”

  Bernard exhaled, shaking his head. “I was only told to facilitate it. Nothing more.”

  Sam let out a sharp breath, rubbing a hand down his face. “Great. So we’re just rolling with this, then?”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Nyx muttered, eyes still on the device in her palm.

  Bernard’s expression hardened. “One last thing before you go.”

  Nyx and Sam looked up.

  “The Chaos Tournament isn’t just a battlefield,” Bernard said, his voice steady. “The scale of power inside it is unpredictable. And the further you go, the stronger the opposition gets. If you don’t evolve, you die.”

  A pause.

  Nyx gave a slow nod. “Understood.”

  Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “More cryptic warnings. Love it.”

  Bernard gestured toward the devices. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Nyx and Sam exchanged a glance.

  Sam scoffed. “Well. No turning back now.”

  Without hesitation, Nyx pressed her thumb to the device.

  A split second later, the world shattered around them.