The neon glow of Skylance City flickered in the distance, but here in the back alleys and underground tunnels, the world was cold, dark, and silent. Alastor moved quickly, his senses sharpened by the lingering energy of the Scarab’s Mark, his grip on time tighter now—but still unstable. Each step he took echoed with the awareness that the Pyramid wasn’t done with him yet.

He’d used the scarab to pull the threads of the loop in subtle ways—changing encounters, anticipating threats—but he knew it wouldn’t be long before the Pyramid retaliated. It had ways of forcing loyalty, and anyone who didn’t fall in line was marked for elimination.

And that’s when they sent someone like Selene Valkyr.

Selene wasn’t just an assassin. She was a legend—one of the most dangerous hunters to ever come through the Pyramid’s ranks. She operated with precision and ruthlessness, a ghost who never missed her mark. And worse, she and Alastor had history. She wasn’t just a peer in the deadly world of the Pyramid’s games—once, in another life, she had been a friend. Perhaps something more.

But that was before the loop had started. Before Alastor had begun to unravel the Pyramid’s lies and before Nyx’s betrayal had burned away whatever was left of his trust in anyone. If Selene was coming for him now, it meant the Pyramid wanted her to prove her loyalty—with his blood.

Aurora had warned him. “The Pyramid won’t let you go quietly. They’ll send someone you know. Someone you won’t see coming until it’s too late.”

And now, here he was, hiding in the underground veins of the city, waiting for her. He could feel it—the pulse of time shifting in his favor. He had nudged the loop to give himself an edge, but only a small one. The scarab’s power was still volatile, and each time he tampered with time, it seemed to pull something vital away from him, as if draining him from within. But for now, it was enough. He just needed to survive the next few hours.

The faint scrape of metal on stone echoed from the shadows, and Alastor’s heart skipped a beat.

Selene was here.

He pressed himself deeper into the shadows, the glow of the scarab pulsing faintly beneath his sleeve. He could feel the weight of her presence closing in, the sharp precision of a hunter narrowing in on her prey. There was no hesitation in her movements—Selene never hesitated. That was what made her deadly.

He could almost picture her now: lithe and graceful, moving like a shadow through the dark, her silver hair pulled back tight, her violet eyes gleaming with cold focus. She was a predator in every sense of the word, and tonight, he was her target.

Alastor steadied his breath. He knew this encounter had two possible outcomes: either she would kill him, or she would join him. There was no in-between.

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Footsteps echoed lightly in the alley ahead—calculated, silent but deliberate. She wasn’t rushing. Selene never rushed. She enjoyed the hunt. It was her art form, her language. Every step closer was like a sentence, building toward the final punctuation of a blade to the throat.

He let the scarab hum against his skin, nudging the flow of events again—just enough to delay her by a second, to give him the slimmest of advantages. He felt the shift ripple through the air, like a thin thread being plucked in a web of time. The energy sent a shiver down his spine, but he ignored it. He couldn’t afford to hesitate. Not now.

Then he saw her.

She stepped into the narrow alley, her silhouette sharp and purposeful, a gleaming black blade already drawn. It caught the faint light from the neon above, the cold steel glinting like a promise of death. Her violet eyes locked onto him, unreadable, and a slight, familiar smile curled at the edges of her lips.

She was playing with him. Like she always had.

"Hello, Alastor," she said softly, her voice low and smooth, dripping with quiet menace. "It’s been a long time."

Alastor’s jaw clenched. "You don’t have to do this, Selene."

Her smile widened, though there was no joy in it. "That’s where you’re wrong. The Pyramid doesn’t give me choices. It gives me missions." She took a step closer, her blade glinting in the dim light. "And tonight’s mission is simple: Kill you… or prove you’re worth more alive."

Alastor’s hand twitched toward the scarab beneath his sleeve, the urge to manipulate time building in his mind. But he knew Selene—knew that if he acted too soon, she’d see through it. She had always been two steps ahead, a hunter born from the same shadowed order that had tried to destroy him.

"So what’s it going to be?" Alastor asked, his voice steady despite the tension coiling in his chest. "Loyal soldier, or wild card?"

Selene tilted her head slightly, her violet eyes gleaming with something he couldn’t quite place. "It’s funny," she whispered. "We used to talk about how we’d bring the Pyramid down. Do you remember that?"

Alastor’s heart skipped. He did. It had been nothing more than a drunken fantasy, late nights spent whispering rebellion when they thought no one was listening. But the Pyramid had been listening. It was always listening.

He swallowed hard. "That was a lifetime ago, Selene."

"More than one lifetime," she replied softly, her expression darkening. "How many times do you think we’ve done this before? How many cycles have we lived through, hunting each other, killing each other, over and over again?"

Alastor’s stomach twisted. The curse. The loop. It wasn’t just him who was caught in its endless cycle—Selene was trapped too.

"You don’t have to do this," he said quietly, taking a step closer. "You can break free. We can end this, together."

Selene’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments—just a flicker of doubt, a crack in the mask she wore so well. But then, just as quickly, it was gone. She stepped forward, her blade gleaming in the darkness, a dangerous glint in her eye.

"I can’t trust you, Alastor," she whispered, her voice laced with something like regret. "Not anymore."

Before he could react, she moved.

In a flash, Selene’s blade was at his throat, the cold steel pressing lightly against his skin. One wrong move, one word out of place, and it would be over. Alastor felt his pulse hammer in his ears, but he held still, his breath steady.

"You always were predictable," she murmured, her eyes locked on his. "I can’t decide if that makes you easy to kill… or impossible."

Alastor didn’t move, the hum of the scarab vibrating faintly under his skin, waiting for him to act.

"Make your move, Selene," he whispered. "One way or another, this ends tonight."

Her blade gleamed in the dark, sharp and unwavering, as the world seemed to hold its breath around them. The game was far from over.