Vincent Ruiz took shape in the center of the arena.
Light built him from the ground up, leaving burned sand and glassy patches under his boots. When the glow faded, he stood with his shoulders low and his head slightly forward, scarred and silent. He looked worse than Elias remembered.
The left side of Vincent's body carried burn damage that had healed wrong. Skin pulled tight over the muscle. Hardened stone covered his right arm and shoulder. The plates were charcoal, with dull red seams. He flexed one hand to test his grip. Beside him hovered Nosey.
The buglike Ikona drifted close to Vincent's shoulder with patched chitin and wings that buzzed once before folding. It did not look triumphant. It looked tired. The Crafter spread both arms.
"Here he is, carrying more problems than any reasonable man should survive. Vincent Ruiz, fugitive, survivor, and today's proof that the System rewards persistence even when persistence looks like bad judgment."
