Awkward.
That was the only word Alex could use to describe the mood in the room.
Malik looked like he'd left the planet—seated cross-legged, eyes closed, deep in meditation, his breathing slow and even.
Grugrim, on the other hand, was hunched in the corner, muttering to himself like a mad professor. Tools clinked softly as he worked, scrawling notes on parchment, adjusting tiny runes with obsessive focus.
Every few seconds, he gasped like he'd just uncovered some ancient secret.
At this point, he looked like a man who had discovered the cure to cancer—and was trying to recreate it from memory.
That left only two people still grounded in the present:
Alex and Vess.
Vess, who was staring at Alex, then turned away, saying nothing as she walked toward one of the viewing screens—hands behind her back, eyes locked on the arena feed.
Alex followed her lead, shifting his gaze to the arena as well.
