Rhys stepped through the shimmering extraction portal, the heat and sulfurous stench of the volcanic archipelago instantly replaced by the cool, sterile air of the vast metallic recovery hall.
He allowed himself a small, weary sigh, letting the carefully constructed facade of exhaustion and minor injury settle back onto his face.
His shoulder throbbed with a phantom pain from the glancing blow he had allowed himself to take during the final chaotic moments of the Zone Conquest trial. Maintaining the illusion required constant vigilance.
He was immediately separated from the other nine survivors of his group. Nexus officials, efficient and impersonal, guided each of them through different corridors towards designated debriefing and recovery zones. There would be no camaraderie among the victors, only continued isolation and suspicion. The tournament was designed to foster ruthless individualism.
