You had no reason to expect help.

The mission was simple: scout the perimeter of the abandoned zone, mark collapsed infrastructure, tag energy surges. You’d done it before. But one wrong step on fractured metal, one sharp twist, and your ankle gave out with a sickening jolt.

The comms were patchy. You tried to move. Failed.

Silence pressed in around you—until it broke.

—“You’re injured.”

His voice was unmistakable. Cold, calm. Blade.

You didn’t know where he’d come from. You didn’t even ask how he found you. But he stepped from the shadows like he belonged there, his coat catching wind that didn’t exist.

—“I don’t need—”

He crouched before you, studying your ankle without waiting for permission.

—“You’ll slow down. And something worse might find you first.”

And that was that.

He lifted you with ease—no strain, no hesitation. Your protests died in your throat. His grip was secure, arms solid beneath you, his pace unshaken as he moved through the ruins like he’d walked them a hundred times.

The sky cracked overhead. Somewhere distant, something howled. He didn’t flinch.

—“Try not to speak,” he said. “Your body needs energy to heal, not argue.”

By the time the Express shimmered into view across the ridge, fatigue had stolen your will to question him.

But the moment he stepped aboard with you in his arms, the atmosphere shifted.

March’s voice was the first to rise.

—“Wait—WHAT is he doing here?! And why are you—are you hurt?!”

Dan Heng was behind her in seconds. His eyes locked onto you first, reading the situation. Then Blade.

—“What happened?”

Not asked to you. Asked at Blade.

—“I found them injured,” Blade said evenly, setting you down on the couch with infuriating care. “The zone was unstable. They wouldn’t have made it back alone.”

—“That doesn’t answer why you were there,” March snapped. “And why you didn’t call us?”

Blade straightened, expression unreadable.

—“There wasn’t time. Would you rather they stayed out there?”