Alister stood atop the jagged spire, his black coat billowing. His golden eyes, sharp and reptilian, swept over the group, taking in their battered forms with a single glance.
He leaped down—THUD—landing lightly, the ground cracking faintly beneath his boots.
"Well… it seems the boss really did a number on you lot."
Arden's green eyes narrowed, skepticism and curiosity still burning beneath his exhaustion.
He gripped the blade he held tighter, ignoring the ache in his limbs.
"How'd you get in here, Alister?" he asked, his voice edged with suspicion. "This is a closed dungeon. No one just walks in."
Alister's gaze sharpened, his head tilting slightly as he studied them. His eyes flicked to their masks—or what remained of them—some cracked, others discarded.
