The world seesawed.

Men fighting, yelling, dying.

Blood in my mouth.

Blood on the ground.

My ears rang, a sharp, wet metal taste filling my mouth. Blood. Just blood. Sheer metal walls towered, bodies warping and twisting all around. Get up. My chest refused to draw air as I struggled to my feet.

Then, like he'd come from the sky, a new man stood before me. Sword in hand, covered in blood. This time there was no running.

Dagger.

Though he'd come to kill me, my pulse quickened at the sight of him, in horror and awe both. He was glorious, terrible, an angel of death. His bare chest was a map of muscles marked in blood and sweat. On screen he had been a sight to see, but in person...

... I had no words.

He paced forward, carrying his spear with confidence, contrasted with the small screwdriver clutched in my hand. The difference between our bodies, our weapons, our everything, was laughable. His clear, hard eyes devoured me with an intensity and focus I'd once admired.

A man who never hesitated.

Instead of fear, I felt only a sense of doomed justice. This was right. This was what I deserved. This was the justice of the Beast. I would be killed by the man whom I'd admired for killing. A man I'd bet on.

But I wouldn't die a coward. I would fight, even if the only weapon I held was a tiny screwdriver. I met his eyes straight-backed and unshaking, ready to die as an engineer of the Belly.

He stopped.

A line of blood ran down his chest. This close I could see his eyes were a stormy, dark gray. Not the impenetrable black I'd thought. It seemed an odd detail to notice right before he killed me.

What was he waiting for?