Arthur did not move.
Stone fragments still settled across the courtyard, clattering softly as gravity reasserted itself in uneven bursts. The remains of the creature lay scattered, dull and lifeless. Whatever energy had animated it was gone.
Arthur stayed where he was, breathing controlled, eyes lifted.
The man on the platform above had stepped forward. He stood at the edge now, looking down with undisguised interest. His clothes were intact, untouched by dust or blood. Not because he was careful, but because he had not needed to be.
Arthur cataloged him quickly.
Tall. Lean build. Balanced stance. No visible weapons, yet no tension in his posture. Someone who relied on more than steel. Someone confident enough to observe rather than intervene.
"Efficient," the man said.
His voice carried easily across the open space, calm and unhurried.
Arthur said nothing.
Silence was safer than giving information away.
The man nodded, as if Arthur's lack of response confirmed something he had already suspected. "You let it kill someone else before engaging," he continued. "You used the terrain instead of brute force. You adapted quickly."
Arthur shifted his weight slightly. Pain flared in his leg, sharp and insistent. He adjusted his stance to compensate, hiding the injury as best he could.
"Most people panic during their first real fight here," the man said. "You did not."
Arthur finally spoke. "If you came to congratulate me, you are late."
The man smiled faintly. "If I came to kill you, you would already be dead."
Arthur accepted that without reaction.
The man stepped off the platform.
He did not jump.
He simply descended, landing lightly on a floating fragment before stepping down into the courtyard itself. His movement was smooth, controlled, as though the shifting terrain posed no threat at all.
Arthur watched closely.
"So," the man said, stopping several meters away. "You are injured."
Arthur did not deny it.
"You are also alone," the man continued. "That will not last long. Skylandia does not favor isolation for very long."
Arthur met his gaze. "Neither does it favor weakness."
The man's eyes sharpened slightly. "True."
They stood there, studying one another, both aware that the wrong movement would turn the courtyard into a battlefield again.
"My name is Ilyas," the man said at last. "Ilyas Rowe."
Arthur considered whether to respond.
Names had weight. They created connections. But refusing to give one could provoke unnecessary hostility.
"Arthur," he said.
Ilyas nodded once. "Arthur."
He glanced at the shattered remains of the creature. "You will notice that others will come soon. The noise, the disruption. This place will draw attention."
Arthur already knew that.
Ilyas continued. "Some will want to talk. Others will want what you have proven you can take."
Arthur's hand flexed slowly at his side. "And you?"
Ilyas met his eyes without hesitation. "I want to see how long you last."
Arthur's lips curved slightly. Not a smile. An acknowledgment.
"I am not recruiting you," Ilyas added. "Not yet. People who rush into alliances here die quickly. Either betrayed or carried by those they do not understand."
Arthur agreed.
Ilyas gestured toward Arthur's leg. "You should move before you bleed too much."
Arthur glanced down briefly. Blood had soaked through the torn fabric. The pain was steady now, no longer sharp. Dangerous. Numbness would follow if he ignored it.
"I will," Arthur said.
Ilyas stepped aside, giving him a clear path out of the courtyard. "We will meet again," he said. "Skylandia is small in that way."
Arthur did not respond. He moved past Ilyas without turning his back, every step measured, every motion controlled despite the pain.
As he left the courtyard, he felt eyes on him.
Not just Ilyas.
Others were watching now.
From broken windows. From floating platforms. From alleyways where figures lingered just out of sight. Word spread quickly here. Strength was noticed. Ruthlessness even more so.
Arthur turned down a side street and slowed only when he was certain he was out of view.
He leaned briefly against a wall, exhaling through clenched teeth. His leg trembled. He pressed his hand against the wound, assessing the damage. Deep, but not crippling. Infection would be a concern later.
He straightened.
Rest would have to wait.
As he moved on, a faint sensation brushed against his awareness. Subtle. Almost like pressure easing somewhere deep inside him. He did not dwell on it. Whatever it was, it could wait.
Arthur disappeared into the streets of Skylandia.
The hunt had begun.