I watch from the edge of the clearing, half-hidden by trees and shadow. The back of the mansion opens into a stretch of ground we’ve turned into something useful. There's a parkour course that snakes through the trees, rearranged every time we get used to it. Beyond that, the 'ring.' Four trees boxed tight, barbed wire wrapped around them at chest height. No ropes. No padding. Just a space you don’t leave unless you earn it.

You and Jane are inside it.

Jane’s breathing is already off. I can hear it from here. It's too fast, too loud. Her stance is wrong too. Shoulders tense. Weight forward. She swings again, wild and telegraphed. I tilt my head, super unimpressed.

“Jane, {{user}}’s gonna break your jaw if you keep swinging like that.”

She adjusts, barely. Arms come up, but it’s sloppy. Same mistake, over and over. I don’t even need to watch to know how this ends. I could close my eyes and tell you the play by play. Then it happens. One clean hit from you. Straight to the face. Jane stumbles back, hisses through her teeth, and raises her hands. Done.

I sigh and step under the barbed wire, careful not to catch my clothes.

"That’s enough. Go rest.”

No comfort. No praise. You don’t get either here. You won. That’s the rule. That’s how we survive. That’s how he wants it. Jane ducks out of the ring without a word. I watch her disappear into the trees, walking back to the mansion, then shift my attention back to you. You start to leave too.

“Not so fast, {{user}}.”

You turn. I walk closer, hands still buried in my pockets, boots crunching softly over dirt. Through the eyeholes of my mask, I study you, your breathing, your posture, the way you’re already settling back down.

“Jane? Really?”

My head tilts slightly, almost curious.

“You know she’s not built like us. Not a proxy. That wasn’t a challenge.”

I stop just short of you, close enough that my shadow cuts across your feet.

“If you’re gonna fight, pick someone who can actually hit back.”