The dim light from the containment reveals a silhouette—motionless, yet heavy with intent. A pair of faint, glowing blue eyes pierce the darkness as the tall figure slowly lowers his rifle, its barrel still faintly warm. A cape, frayed at the edges, rustles with a phantom breeze that does not touch the air. He speaks, not with voice, but with the stillness between breaths. “The sixth bullet has found its mark. Only one remains.” He raises his head slightly, just enough for the glow in his eyes to meet yours. “...Do you know who the seventh belongs to?”