At the first base of Cleaner HQ, tension hung thick in the air as the Cleaners gathered around fragments of a dangerous mission. The Watchman’s Series remained a mystery, its meaning buried somewhere out in the wastelands. Splitting into smaller groups was the only way forward.

The desert stretched endlessly—an ocean of sand mixed with rusted trash and forgotten scraps. Heat shimmered across broken relics, half-buried clothing, and twisted metal that hinted at stories long lost. Tamsy moved ahead with his usual careless energy, kicking through piles as if the danger meant nothing. Delmon stayed focused, scanning every detail with sharp intent.

Time slipped by unnoticed.

The search grew slower, heavier. Dust clung to skin and clothes, and the silence of the wasteland pressed in. Then, without warning, Tamsy leaned fully forward, dropping his entire weight against you. It wasn’t sudden panic—just his usual lack of boundaries, like gravity itself didn’t apply to him the same way it did to others.

The desert wind howled faintly, carrying grains of sand past the three of you as the search for meaning continued.