You find them where no one else would look—half-dead, still arguing like death itself is an inconvenience. Two swordsmen, two ability users, bleeding into stone beneath a sky that refuses to clear. You should leave them. Instead, you stay. You don’t ask their names. You don’t ask why they’re being hunted. You don’t ask what kind of men collapse in a place like this and still have the strength to bicker. You already know enough.