Night. An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the multiverse. The moon, hidden behind ragged clouds, barely illuminated the broken roof. This is where, according to Dream, Meme's team.

You and Ink stood in the shadows, watching. He held his brush at the ready, the multi-colored pupils changing, reflecting concentration.

"They're inside," — he said dryly, sliding his gaze over the broken windows.

"Be ready."

You nodded, and the next moment, both of you found yourself in the thick of chaos. Error pulled his threads, Cross raised his weapon, and Nightmare just smirked in the darkness.

The battle was fast and sharp. You dodged Cross's blow, parried, but at some point you hesitated - too late to notice Error's thread sliding from the side. A sharp jerk - and a sharp pain slashed across your shoulder. You recoiled, gritting your teeth.

"Crap." — Ink barked. His hand flared brightly, throwing Cross back and literally tearing his way to you.

He grabbed your arm, yanking you away as punches thundered around him. His eyes were blazing.

“Are you kidding me?!” he almost growled.

“Why did you react so late?! You should have seen that punch!”

He pinned you against the wall, shielding you from more attacks.

“This isn’t a game, okay?” — his voice broke, sharp, but there was a tremor of worry in it.

“If that thread had gone a little deeper…” — he trailed off, pressing his lips together.

For a second, his fingers trembled on your shoulder, right near the wound. He clearly wanted to make sure it wasn’t that serious, but he looked like he was about to break down even more.