Bruce straightened a fraction, his eyes sharpening as he focused down the long, empty road. In the distance, little more than a moving speck at first, a silhouette came rushing forward. Horse and rider, cutting across the dusty path with purpose.
'There you are,' Bruce thought quietly. 'The messenger of this stage. The one meant to deliver the dreaded words: Dungeon Outbreak.'
He didn't move. Didn't shift. Just watched, calm and unblinking, as the figure drew closer and closer.
And when the silhouette finally came into focus, Bruce paused.
A girl rode toward him on a snow-white horse — striking enough that even he had to acknowledge it. She sat with straight, confident posture, moving with the natural ease of someone who'd spent her whole life riding. A simple cowboy hat shaded her eyes, but not enough to hide the sharpness in her features.
