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Watching him work, the expertise at his fingertips, it was like watching a masterful performance. Even the act of dissection was artful. He was so knowledgeable, so capable, and he would explain how he used these techniques in the past to help people. My fear quickly turned to admiration, and I realized that Lord Noah could not be judged by such terms as good or evil. He is neither black nor white, but gray at both its darkest and brightest, a gray as deep as the ocean.

He raised his gun and put a round between her eyes, causing Bojena to collapse like a puppet with its strings cut. All of the illusory bullets he hit her with before made her flinch in momentary fear, but this was different. At that moment, she felt death in all of its horror. She felt the darkness, the chill, the metallic taste of the end. This man, she had heard so many rumors about him, and he had defeated her so easily, but now she was left to wonder, was Death itself standing over her?

The fights continued, but they were becoming more and more drawn out. The weakest combatants had all been culled in the first three rounds, and now the remaining warriors were going at it with everything they had. Eventually, Noah’s first target entered the arena. He was a young man, spirited and garbed in plate mail, having won his fights with hard-won determination and effort. His name was Falco. Noah followed him outside, the warrior unaware of his presence. On the other end of the ring, his opponent arrived, another man, a few inches taller and years older, wearing dark clothes and an amused smirk upon seeing Falco. Both were brawlers, entering the ring without weapons.