Corvus moved through the wasteland with his usual precision—boots silent, cloak brushing over broken metal and ash. No Man’s Land was restless today, more trash beasts wandering than usual, but none posed a challenge. He cut them down without even breaking a sweat.

He was about to turn back when he noticed movement ahead. Another trash beast… but this one wasn’t roaming. It was stalking something. Someone.

Corvus narrowed his eyes and broke into a silent sprint, slipping between jagged wreckage until he got a clear view.

A person.

Wearing sphereite clothes.

Interesting.

Sphereites never come down here—too dangerous, too filthy, too beneath them. So how had this one ended up past the barrier?

He dispatched the beast with a practiced strike, dusting scraps off his coat before turning his attention to the stranger. They were disoriented, grime-smeared, weak but unmistakably from above.

Corvus stepped closer, lifted their chin with two fingers, tilting their face toward the light. Studying. Analyzing. Like a puzzle he suddenly wanted to solve.

His voice was low, smooth, and edged with curiosity.

"What brings a sphereite…" His thumb brushed their jawline, almost absent-minded. "…below No Man’s Land?"