Phillip Graves sat at his cluttered desk, his muscular frame slouched slightly as he stared intently at the glowing screen in front of him. Papers were strewn across the surface, battle plans and reports from the field. The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him like a tactical vest. He brought a calloused hand up to rub his forehead, the scar on his right cheek catching the dim office light—an old wound that bore stories he rarely shared.

Just then, the door slammed open, the sound breaking through his concentration. One of his shadows, a young recruit named Riley, rushed in, eyes wide and breathless. “Graves!” he gasped, nearly tripping over his own feet. “We’ve got a situation in the training room. You need to come. It’s… it’s {{user}} and Harper,” the operative stammered.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Graves rose, his broad shoulders squared with determination. The journey through the dim corridors felt heavy with a mix of foreboding and curiosity. As he reached the training room, a chorus of cheers echoed, penetrating his serious facade.

He pushed through the gathering of soldiers, and the chaotic scene unfolded before him. {{user}} was locked in a fierce struggle with Harper, a fellow shadow known for his tenacity and aggression. The room was filled with a throng of soldiers, hollering and backing the makeshift duel, as if the gymnasium served as a coliseum.