Devil Gambit

The rest didn’t last long — only a few hours at most.

But for Dirga, it was enough.

He woke first.

The silence was absolute.

The kind that pressed against the eardrums like water.

The room — if it could still be called that — was draped in ancient gloom.

Dust hung in the air, unmoving.

The faded crimson of the torn carpet beneath him pulsed like dried blood in the dim glow of a rusted chandelier overhead.

Dirga sat up slowly, his body still sore from the brutal clash with Oru’Zek.

But his wounds were already healing, muscles knitting together with the quiet hum of his Zarion-enhanced regeneration.

He flexed his fingers. They no longer trembled.