Defenders

Nathan leaned back in his chair, the faint clinking of cutlery echoing in the quiet corner of the restaurant.

"Hm, we'll probably be stuck in this Fractured Reality for a few more months."

His tone was calm, as if months trapped in this strange, warped world were just another day at work.

Ivaim smiled to himself, resting his chin on his palm.

'A few more months... Old man Harvin's probably already replaced me at the workshop.'

"Why so?" he asked, keeping his tone casual, though Nathan's cryptic statements always managed to hook his curiosity.

Nathan glanced at him.

"Aside from the arenas, I haven't found anything concrete. No clues, no leads that point to him. Just a mess of dead ends."

Ivaim tapped his fingers against the table, a small grin forming.

"I have."

Nathan's gaze sharpened, his brow raising slightly.

"You have?"

Ivaim nodded, sitting up straighter.