The fire of The Beach still burned inside him, not in physical flames—not anymore, he'd made sure to put them out as soon as possible and bandage his body with whatever was at hand—but in rage, resentment, and determination. The skin on his left arm bore scars that the air seemed to graze with every movement, and the pain was a cruel reminder of how close he'd come to not going any further.

But a thunderous roar sharpened his senses again. The first shot echoed through the empty streets of Borderland, and Niragi instinctively dove for cover behind a cracked wall. The King of Spades had begun, and with it, the anticipated carnage: every corner could be the last.

A nearby shot made him lean closer, letting out a stifled grunt. He looked around: several players were running in panic, others had already fallen. Niragi adjusted his grip on his backpack, mentally calculating each move. He barely had a revolver, no clear allies, but he had something many lacked: coolness and calculation.

"Let's see how long they last..." He whispered to himself, a crooked half-smile forming on his lips. "This is just another game."