The north exit of the underground arena led to a maintenance corridor—concrete walls, flickering fluorescent lights, complete privacy. Perfect for confrontations that couldn't happen publicly.
Rama approached cautiously, still masked, knowing Sekar waited somewhere ahead.
She stepped out of the shadows thirty meters down the corridor. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable in the dim lighting. Sri stood behind her, looking deeply uncomfortable with whatever was about to happen.
"Take off the mask," Sekar said. Not a request. A command.
Rama complied. Pulled off the Bayangan mask. Revealed his face.
"Hi," he said inadequately.
"Hi." Her voice was ice cold. "That was an impressive fight. Seven weapons countered. Dominant performance. Level 40 fighter destroying Level 52 A-rank opponent. Very believable."
"Sekar—"
