Alonso slowly opened his eyes, feeling the heaviness of his body and the dull throb from his injuries, though the sharp pain had diminished. The wounds, now mostly dried, still burned faintly, and he knew some would soon become scars. He was also hungry. Very hungry.

The air felt cooler against his skin now that the sweat had dried, and he noticed the stiffness of his muscles as he shifted slightly.

The sun was still up, casting a warm, golden hue over the arena. Not much time had passed since the fight.

"3 hours and 14 minutes, to be precise," Houston's voice echoed in his mind.

Alonso's vision was hazy at first, but it sharpened as he blinked and focused.

He scanned his surroundings and saw three pairs of eyes locked onto him. Each gaze carried a different emotion, but all shared the same sense of anticipation. They had been waiting.

He recognized Chiara and Ayu. Chiara's eyes held a mix of nervousness, and inner conflict, while Ayu's expression was one of concern, tinged with relief. But the third face—this was the one that drew his attention.

The man was massive, his presence imposing. Alonso recalled seeing him briefly before the duel. It was hard to forget someone like that, but… was he part of Siddharth's faction? A second-in-command, maybe?

"What happened after I went to sleep?" Alonso asked Houston.

"Well, I didn't try to probe—didn't want to give anyone the wrong impression, like you were faking being asleep or something. Chiara would have definitely noticed. So, I've got no idea. But hey, there's an easy way to find out."

Alonso felt the slight nervousness of facing the aftermath, but it was tempered with a sense of calm and self-confidence. He had won. And despite everything, the feeling of victory settled over him, steadying his breath. He knew he had already faced the worst.

"Well, I'm sure you have a lot to tell," he said, standing up and locking eyes with Chiara.

She remained silent for a moment, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes he couldn't quite identify. "Indeed. But one step at a time." She gestured toward the man next to her. "This is Imani, a respected member of our small community. He wishes to speak with you first. We can talk after that."

Imani, who had been quietly observing, gave a slight nod. His gaze, calm and measured, met Alonso's directly.

"Well, I'll leave you two some privacy," Chiara said, turning and leading Ayu away, though Ayu seemed reluctant, glancing back.

Alonso locked eyes with Ayu, offering her a refreshing smile. He sent her an EM image: a large sack of golden coins, accompanied by his grin and a thumbs up. Ayu's cheeks flushed as she responded with a cartoonish image of her punching him hard and sending him flying to the sky.

Alonso had to seriously hold back a laugh and sent another image of himself, miming that he'd come find her later.

He coughed slightly, trying to mask his amusement as he turned back to Imani, whose expression remained serious.

Alonso tilted his head up, taking in the towering figure before him. He guessed Imani was at least seven feet tall, if not more.

Alonso straightened his posture, feeling the weight of Imani's gaze. Despite his calm demeanor, there was an intensity to the man that made Alonso wary, almost as if he could see through every layer of his defenses.

Imani's voice was deep, resonant, and slow. "Alonso... you strong. Stronger than all." He paused, letting the words sink in. "But strength... only part of battle. Respect... other part."

Alonso nodded, feeling the gravity of the words. "I understand. I respect Siddharth and the rules of the duel."

Imani's eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head. "Respect more than duel. Respect life. Siddharth... fought for life here. For this place, these people." His gaze bore into Alonso's. "Now... you live. But do you understand the weight of it?"

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Alonso felt the seriousness in Imani's tone, but the wording left a sour taste. "I didn't fight Siddharth because I wanted to. I warned everyone clearly what would happen if we fought, but they treated me like a joke—a dead man talking trash. You expect me to feel what? Regret now? Should I have let myself die?"

Imani's eyes remained steady, his expression unchanging. "Regret... no. Not expected." His voice stayed firm. "Life here... more than battle. Siddharth protected... guided. Now they see you... the one who took him."

He paused, gaze unwavering. "You live... but survival not enough. If you stay... earn trust... or leave."

Alonso's expression hardened. "Earn trust? I owe these people nothing, Imani. I respect whatever Siddharth did to earn the devotion I see in their eyes, guiding them in this hell, but I'm not a part of it. I won't sit here and cry, claiming to be a victim, but... there's nothing between me and this society. And while I respect my opponent—an incredibly strong warrior, and apparently a leader—that's all there is. I owe him nothing either."

The silence between them was heavy.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ground.

Imani's face remained impassive. "Alone... hard path. Tunnel... not easy, but together... better." He stared directly at him. "You stand alone now, but choice remains. If you leave, you walk path of isolation... of enemies. Here... chance for allies."

Alonso shook his head slightly, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. "Allies? These people aren't normal, Imani. No one here is. If they've made it this far, then they're stubborn, skilled, strong-willed, emotional, or rational—and certainly a bit crazy. Do you think a simple act or two would change their minds? I'd bet half of them want to skin me alive. And you want me to trust them? I'm sorry, Imani, but I can't. There's only one person—maybe two—in this place I'd trust, and that's it. The path ahead is dangerous? So am I."

Imani's eyes narrowed, but he didn't seem surprised. "Pride... strong, yes. But sometimes... obstacle." He gazed at the lake's center. "You survived battle... now survive this… alone."

"I will," Alonso replied. And… I am never alone.

Imani lingered for a few moments longer, his eyes studying Alonso as if searching for something deeper. Then, without another word, he turned and left.

"Well, that didn't go well."

"Did you expect it to go any differently?"

"Fair. So, Chiara next, I suppose."

Alonso took a deep breath. It had been easier discussing this with a stranger—someone he had no ties with. But Chiara... she was different. They were more than mere acquaintances; he actually had a good impression of her.

Why does everything have to be so complicated?

He turned and made his way toward them. She hadn't gone far and was still within view, engaged in conversation with Ayu. As he approached, both women paused, their eyes locking onto him, the discussion clearly interrupted.

He nodded and smiled in Ayu's direction, but she seemed to be under some internal turmoil, her expression remaining serious. She nodded curtly before rushing away, not without sending him an EM image of them talking later.

"Seems your calendar is booked with talks today," Houston mused.

Alonso was left alone with Chiara.

"I assume the conversation didn't go in Imani's desired direction?"

"No. It didn't. But he seems like a good man," Alonso replied.

"Let's head to my cottage. We can talk there. Some people here," she glanced discreetly around, "are rather good at reading lips."

Alonso was slightly surprised by this odd information but nodded and followed her. The walk was short, though he felt the constant weight of eyes on him, as if daggers were being aimed at his back. Allies, huh?

When they reached her modest wooden hut, smaller and simpler than Ayu's, Chiara opened the door, and they stepped inside. Alonso noted the plain setup—a makeshift bed made of plant fibers and wood, a small wooden table, and a barrel-like structure in the corner he presumed was filled with water from the lake.

"Apologies for not having chairs. Hope the floor isn't too uncomfortable," she said, settling into a cross-legged position.

He nodded and did the same, sitting directly across from her.

As they settled, Alonso briefly studied her face. Her skin was pale, almost luminous in the dim light, and her ebony black hair fell loosely over her shoulders. Her almond-shaped, dark eyes—characteristic of her Chinese heritage—seemed distracted, as if she was gathering her thoughts, their depth now softened with a hint of reservation. She was slim, probably a head shorter than him, and this time, her presence felt more natural, almost quiet—nothing like the composed and confident leader she often appeared to be.

There was an interesting mix of focus and nervousness in her expression, as if she was carefully considering her words. It was an amusing and unexpected look on her face, one that hinted at a different side of her.

It felt strange, sitting so close in such an enclosed space, the two of them alone. He couldn't quite place why it felt this way—maybe it was the intensity of their recent experiences, or maybe it was something else entirely. He quickly shook off the thought, refocusing his mind on the conversation they were about to have.

Finally, Chiara fixed her gaze on him, her expression firm. It was about to begin.

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