The Grey Market Arena sat in a converted Cold War bunker beneath Prague Castle. Viktor descended the concrete steps with Mira at his side, his timer glowing 2,980:08:14—eight years, one hundred ninety-seven days—and for the first time since Awakening, he felt steady.

  "You ready?" Mira asked.

  "No. But I'm going anyway."

  The Arena occupied a circular pit—twenty meters across, chain-link fence around the perimeter, floodlights mounted on the walls. Hundreds of Awakened filled the observation levels, their timers creating a constellation of glowing countdowns. Betting tablets lit up faces in the crowd.

  Petra was there, the old information broker. He nodded to Viktor.

  Sofia was there too, Jakub's widow. She stared at Viktor with pure hatred. Her timer read 847:14:08—two years, three months. Not enough to challenge him directly. But enough to hate.

  And at the center of the Arena floor, waiting with arms crossed and a predator's smile:

  Dominik Ková?.

  4,847:09:14

  Thirteen years, eighty-six days.

  He looked exactly as he had in the Grey Market—tall, cold-eyed, wearing the confidence of someone who'd killed dozens and never lost a sanctioned duel.

  "Viktor Krause!" Petra's voice boomed over speakers. He was officiating. "Scavenger turned Keeper in five days. Eight years on your timer. Accused of killing Tomá? Novak, Dominik Ková?'s affiliated scout."

  The crowd murmured. The odds were displayed on massive screens:

  DOMINIK KOVá?: 3-to-1 favorite

  VIKTOR KRAUSE: 5-to-1 underdog

  Better than the 10-to-1 they'd started with. News of Luděk's death had shifted the betting.

  "Dominik Ková?!" Petra continued. "Keeper-level, thirteen years accumulated. Claiming blood debt for Tomá? Novak's death."

  Dominik stepped forward. "The debt is simple. Viktor Krause killed my scout. I kill Viktor Krause. His time becomes mine. The Grey Market witnesses and sanctions this duel."

  "Viktor Krause," Petra said. "Do you accept the terms?"

  Viktor climbed over the chain-link fence. Dropped into the Arena pit.

  "I accept."

  The crowd roared.

  Petra raised a hand. "Rules: Fight until dissolution or surrender. Draining is permitted. Weapons are not. Interference from spectators will result in immediate Collector intervention." He looked between them. "Combatants ready?"

  Dominik cracked his knuckles. Time Dash flickered around him—his body blurred, appearing three meters left, then right, then back to center. Showing off.

  "Ready," he said.

  Viktor's hands were steady. His timer pulsed: 2,980:08:08. Eight years. Against Dominik's thirteen.

  Not impossible odds.

  Just terrible ones.

  "Ready," Viktor said.

  "BEGIN!"

  Dominik moved first.

  Time Dash—he blurred across the Arena, closing the twenty-meter gap in half a second. His hand shot out, grabbed for Viktor's wrist.

  Viktor had seen this in training with Mira. Anticipated it.

  He sidestepped, used Dominik's momentum against him, and as Dominik rushed past, Viktor grabbed for his timer-wrist.

  Contact.

  The drain started—Viktor pulling, Dominik resisting.

  4,847:09:14 → 4,847:08:47 → 4,847:08:22

  Thirty seconds drained.

  Dominik reversed it.

  His willpower crashed into Viktor's like a tidal wave. The flow inverted.

  2,980:08:08 → 2,980:07:44 → 2,980:07:14

  Viktor broke contact. Stumbled back.

  Dominik smiled. "Eight years is impressive. But I've been doing this for seven years, Viktor. Your willpower is a candle. Mine is a furnace."

  He attacked again.

  This time, straight brawl—fist to Viktor's jaw. Echo Strike.

  Viktor's head snapped back. Once from the hit. Twice from the echo half a second later.

  Pain exploded through his skull. He tasted copper.

  The crowd cheered.

  Viktor spat blood. Circled right.

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  Dominik followed. Patient. Confident. "You killed Luděk. That took skill. Luck, too, probably. But this?" He gestured to the Arena. "This is sanctioned. Public. No tricks. No ambushes. Just you and me and time."

  Viktor didn't respond. Mira's training echoed in his head: Dominik will toy with you. Make him work. Wait for the opening.

  Dominik lunged again. Viktor dodged—barely. Time Dash was fast, but it cost Dominik time to use. Ten minutes per activation, Mira had said.

  If Viktor could make him burn through those activations...

  Viktor feinted left, rolled right. Dominik's grab missed.

  The crowd booed. They wanted blood.

  "Running?" Dominik called. "The great Keeper-killer runs from a fair fight?"

  Viktor ignored the taunt. Kept moving.

  Dominik used Time Dash again—appeared behind Viktor, grabbed his shoulders.

  This time, full drain.

  Both hands on Viktor's back, willpower like a battering ram, time pouring out.

  2,980:07:14 → 2,980:04:22 → 2,979:22:08

  Three hours. Five hours. Eight hours.

  Viktor twisted, trying to break the grip. Couldnik held on, grinning.

  2,979:22:08 → 2,979:14:08 → 2,979:04:08

  Half a day. One day.

  Viktor's vision blurred. Power draining with the time, strength fading—

  He stopped resisting.

  Changed tactics.

  Instead of pulling away, Viktor threw himself backward. Slammed his full weight into Dominik, drove them both into the Arena floor.

  The impact broke the drain.

  They rolled apart. Both gasping.

  Viktor's timer: 2,978:18:14. Seven years, three hundred forty-three days. He'd lost over a year.

  But Dominik had burned time too—two Time Dash activations, twenty minutes gone from his thirteen years.

  Viktor stood. His body felt lighter, weaker. A year's worth of power gone.

  But he was still standing.

  "You're tougher than I thought," Dominik admitted. He wasn't smiling anymore. "Most Scavengers would've dissolved by now. But you? You keep getting up."

  "I'm not a Scavenger."

  "No. You're a dead man with a few good moves." Dominik charged.

  No Time Dash this time. Just raw speed—eight years plus five more in reserve, enhanced strength, pure violence.

  They collided.

  Fists. Elbows. Grappling. Viktor used everything Mira had taught him—target the joints, stay close so Dominik couldn't use Time Dash, never stop moving.

  Dominik landed Echo Strike again—double-impact to Viktor's ribs. Something cracked.

  Viktor grabbed Dominik's wrist. Started draining.

  4,846:22:14 → 4,846:18:08

  Four minutes.

  Dominik reversed it.

  2,978:18:14 → 2,978:14:08

  Four minutes back.

  They broke apart. Both bleeding now. Viktor's nose was broken. Dominik's lip was split.

  The crowd was on their feet. This wasn't the one-sided slaughter they'd expected.

  "You're making this difficult," Dominik said. He wiped blood from his mouth. "I respect that. But it ends now."

  He activated Time Dash three times in rapid succession.

  Appeared in front of Viktor—punch to the gut.

  Appeared behind—kick to the spine.

  Appeared to the side—grabbed Viktor's wrist with both hands.

  The drain was absolute.

  Dominik poured his thirteen-year willpower into it, burning through Viktor's defenses like paper.

  2,978:14:08 → 2,977:08:14 → 2,975:14:08 → 2,970:22:14

  Days evaporating. Weeks. Months.

  Viktor felt his Keeper-tier power fading. Sliding back toward Scavenger-level. His enhanced strength draining away with the time.

  2,970:22:14 → 2,960:14:08 → 2,940:08:14

  Two years gone.

  Viktor's consciousness flickered. His body was shutting down—not enough time to sustain full awareness, survival instincts taking over.

  And in that moment of desperation, something deeper activated.

  Not Echo Strike. Not Time Dash.

  Something else.

  Temporal Bubble.

  Viktor didn't know how. Didn't understand the mechanism. But the ability unlocked—Keeper-tier power, usually appearing around the five-year mark.

  Time slowed.

  Not for Viktor. For everything else.

  A ten-meter bubble expanded from his body. Inside it, time moved at 50% normal speed.

  Dominik's drain slowed to a crawl.

  His movements became sluggish, like moving through water.

  His eyes widened—he could feel the effect, but couldn't escape it fast enough.

  Viktor, at the center of the bubble, moved at normal speed.

  He grabbed Dominik's wrist with both hands.

  And pulled.

  This time, there was no resistance.

  Dominik was trapped in slow-time, his willpower fighting through molasses. Viktor's drain hit him like a freight train.

  4,846:18:08 → 4,846:08:14 → 4,845:14:08

  Hours. Days.

  4,845:14:08 → 4,840:22:14 → 4,820:14:08

  Weeks.

  The Temporal Bubble cost Viktor time to maintain—one hour per second—but he didn't care.

  4,820:14:08 → 4,700:08:14 → 4,400:22:14

  Months. Years.

  Dominik screamed—muffled, slow-motion, trapped.

  Viktor held on.

  4,400:22:14 → 3,847:14:08 → 2,920:08:14

  Five years drained.

  Six years.

  Seven.

  The bubble collapsed. Viktor's timer dropped as the ability deactivated:

  2,940:08:14 → 2,939:23:14

  Forty-five minutes to maintain it.

  But Dominik was on his knees now.

  His timer read 2,920:08:14. Eight years. Same as Viktor.

  Equal footing.

  "How?" Dominik gasped. "That ability—you shouldn't—"

  Viktor didn't answer.

  He grabbed Dominik's wrist one final time.

  And this time, it was just willpower against willpower.

  Equal time. Equal strength.

  But Viktor wanted it more.

  2,920:08:14 → 2,900:14:08 → 2,800:22:14

  Dominik's timer plummeted.

  He tried to reverse the drain. Failed. Viktor's desperation overpowered his fading confidence.

  2,800:22:14 → 2,400:08:14 → 1,847:14:08

  Five years. Six years. Seven.

  "Please," Dominik whispered. "I surrender—"

  Petra's voice: "Surrender accepted! Break contact!"

  Viktor didn't let go.

  1,847:14:08 → 847:14:08 → 00:47:22

  The crowd was screaming. Some in excitement. Some in horror.

  00:47:22 → 00:14:08 → 00:00:47

  Petra: "VIKTOR! BREAK CONTACT! HE SURRENDERED!"

  00:00:47 → 00:00:22 → 00:00:08

  Viktor's hands wouldn't release.

  Some deep, dark part of him wanted to watch Dominik dissolve. Wanted to take everything.

  Wanted to become the monster.

  00:00:08 → 00:00:03 → 00:00:01

  Mira's voice, from the crowd: "VIKTOR! LET GO!"

  Viktor let go.

  Dominik collapsed.

  His timer flickered: 00:00:47

  Forty-seven seconds from dissolution.

  The Arena went silent.

  Viktor stood over him, breathing hard. His own timer:

  7,827:14:08

  Twenty-one years. Fourteen days. Eight hours.

  He'd drained Dominik down to forty-seven seconds.

  Then stopped.

  Mercy? Or calculation?

  Viktor didn't know.

  Dominik stared up at him, tears streaming. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you—"

  Then he was scrambling away, timer at 00:00:32, running for the exit, the crowd parting, everyone watching the Keeper who'd lost everything.

  Petra climbed into the Arena. "Winner: Viktor Krause. Blood debt satisfied. Dominik Ková? surrenders all claim."

  The crowd erupted.

  Half were cheering. Half were furious—bets lost, expectations shattered.

  Viktor walked to the chain-link fence. Climbed over.

  Mira was waiting.

  "You could've killed him," she said quietly.

  "I know."

  "But you didn't."

  "No."

  She studied his face. Looking for something—humanity, monstrosity, the line between.

  "Are you still in there?" she asked. "The man who jumped off Charles Bridge? Or is he gone?"

  Viktor looked at his timer. Twenty-one years. More time than most people got in life.

  All of it stolen.

  "I don't know," he said honestly.

  Mira kissed him.

  Quick. Desperate. Tasting like cigarettes and relief and something complicated.

  She pulled back. "Come on. We need to leave before someone tries to collect that bounty."

  They walked toward the exit.

  Behind them, the crowd dispersed. The Arena emptied.

  And in a shadowed observation room above the pit, a woman in a white coat watched Viktor leave.

  Bishop smiled.

  "Fascinating," she said to no one. "He unlocked Temporal Bubble at eight years. And he showed mercy at the end." She pulled out her phone, typed a message.

  Subject Viktor Krause exceeds projections. Recommend immediate recruitment. - B

  The reply came instantly:

  Approved. Make contact. - Architect

  Bishop put away her phone.

  She had a new Collector to recruit.

  And Viktor Krause had no idea what was coming.