The walk back to the competitors' area was more challenging than Grim had anticipated. The adrenaline that had carried him through the match was fading rapidly, allowing the Ghost Veil poison to reassert its hold on his body. Each step required conscious effort, and the burning sensation from Feng's fire techniques added another layer of discomfort.
By the time he reached his assigned preparation space, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his vision occasionally blurred at the edges. He needed to focus on purging the poison before his condition deteriorated further.
But as he turned the corner to his section, Grim stopped abruptly. Someone was waiting for him. A young woman seated casually on the his bench as if she belonged there.
