Vincent Ruiz formed in the center of the arena like the world resented putting him back together.
Light built him from the ground up, leaving burned sand and glassy patches under his boots. When the glow faded, he stood with his shoulders low and his head slightly forward, scarred and silent. He looked worse than Elias remembered.
The left side of Vincent's body carried burn damage that had healed wrong. Skin pulled tight over the muscle. His right arm and shoulder were wrapped in hardened stone plates, black and dark red at the seams, like cooled lava that had not forgotten heat. One hand flexed once, slow, testing grip. Beside him hovered Nosey.
The bug like Ikona drifted close to Vincent's shoulder with patched chitin and wings that buzzed once before folding. It did not look triumphant. It looked tired. The Crafter spread both arms.
