As the thirty-second timer began, the arena was silent but for the dripping of blood across the black tiles. Time seemed to stretch, each second heavier than the last. Luna stood where Greg's body had once been, the ghostly halo of spectral beasts circling her as her gaze swept across the surviving members of the party. One.
The seconds ticked, each heartbeat resonating in the chest of those who remained. One. White Leo's face remained calm, but inside, the storm of dread churned. He did not move. He did not flinch. He only watched, his eyes fixed on the goddess-like figure of his sister, knowing that every second would cost them something they could never take back.
Two.
