Malik and Qiqi stood before a Hub, but neither was speaking. The former was covered in wounds, an arm was gone, and a leg was limping. Drenched in his own blood, it didn't seem like he should even be breathing right now.
By comparison, Qiqi didn't have a speck of dust on her. Instead, her dress was sticking to her as though she had been dunked in a pool off the deep end. But in reality, it was her own sweat.
Her face seemed drained of color as well, her blood barely pumping through her body. If not for the fact she leaned against Malik's arm—the only one of them that remained—it would be a wonder for her to even stand at all.
The two looked like they had been through hell and back. But at the very least, their situation was much better than a certain other soul here.
