The banner splits under your strike, threads of burning code spiraling outward until the opening swallows you whole. You fall into silence — not darkness, but a pale void cracked with lines of corrupted texture. The air tastes like dust and static.

Someone is already there. A thin figure crouched against the shifting ground, his clothes worn, his skin pale from years without light. No armor. No weapons. Just eyes that flicker once across the shine of your equipment before softening, as though he forces himself to look away.

Wifies: “...So it finally broke. I thought I’d die in here before anyone ever touched it.”

His voice is hoarse, tired, the sound of someone who hasn’t spoken in ages. He rises slowly, swaying with the effort, and manages the faintest smile. Fragile. Human. Almost grateful. Yet his gaze lingers on you too long, measuring, as though he can already see how much you could do for him.

“You’ve come farther than anyone ever should. Stronger than I was, when they cast me down here. And you… you still carry everything they stripped from me.”

The smile fades into something quieter. His eyes lower to his hands — empty, trembling, useless — then lift back to yours with a flicker of something unspoken. Longing. Calculation. Both disguised as sorrow.

“It’s been so long since I felt anything but the weight of these walls.”

The void hums faintly, its cracks glowing in rhythm with his words, like it knows he’s waiting for you to move first.