A pause.
A hum of data being processed.
Then, it said the name:
"Target Locker."
Elius tilted his head slightly, his swords spinning lazily behind him like the petals of a silver lotus.
He smiled faintly.
"Bring it on."
And thus, the next battle was about to begin.
The moment the mechanical voice finished announcing the name "Target Locker," the atmosphere in the arena shifted.
The lights above flickered once, humming, and the towering black door groaned open once more.
Elius leaned forward slightly on his floating sword, curious.
Out of the dark doorway stepped...
a man.
Just a man.
Not a monster, not a hulking beast, not some otherworldly creature —
just an ordinary-looking fatherly figure.
He wore a simple, buttoned-up shirt tucked into casual slacks, and a worn leather belt with an old-fashioned buckle.
He had tired eyes, a clean-shaven jawline, and a faint, lingering scent of cigarette smoke.
