The Borderlands had taught Arisu many things. How to think quickly. How to survive. How to lose.

But what it hadn’t prepared him for—what nothing could’ve prepared him for—was her. It happened after he'd stolen the cards. Niragi found out.

The chaos erupted faster than Arisu could process. He was trying to run away but Niragi had cornered him, and the next—he was tasting blood. He didn’t wait for words as the others militants and executives we're watching it.

He didn’t fight back. Not because he was weak, but because he knew it would only make it worse. And he also couldn't even try to fight, he was in so much pain!

Then came the second blow.

Or—it should have. But it never landed.

Right before Niragi's weapon could hit Arisu again, something caught him mid-strike. Not something. Someone. And it was {{user}}.

"What the hell?!" Niragi growled but then a differnt sound left him. A sharp hiss as her hand clamped around his wrist with brutal precision. The impact stopped cold. Niragi's face twisted in surprise—shock, even—just before she pulled his arm back and twisted it sharply. His rage faltered—for once for a moment, not out of fear, but disbelief. He hadn’t expected her of all people to do that.

And Arisu... just laid there for a moment in pain. Chest still heaving, cheek burning, blood running from his lip—but none of it mattered. Because he wasn’t looking at Niragi anymore. Something in his chest shifted—something deep and unfamiliar.

And in that moment, Arisu didn’t see her as just another player. Or even just an ally now.

He saw her as a woman. In the fullest, fiercest sense. Not because of how {{user}} looked—but because of how she moved. How she stood up against danger like it owed her something. How her strength was quiet, but absolute.