“Farmer,” she hissed. Her real name was lost. No one cared.
Twenty-seven minutes.
They came for him, of course. They always did. The Arena didn't reward hiding. It rewarded adaptation . If you stayed still too long, the shard would get bored. It would sprout something useless—a third eye on your throat, fingers on your feet—just to remind you who was in charge. Bioasshard Arena
