CHAPTER 110 — BRONZE SQUAD
The mess hall was loud in the way only places full of working fighters could be.
Metal trays clinked against wooden tables. Laughter burst from one corner, followed by someone loudly arguing about who missed a finishing strike. The smell of roasted meat, thick stew, and baked bread filled the air.
Long Hao sat at the long table with Colby, Marek, Darius, and Zehell.
He kept his posture relaxed.
Observed.
Listened.
Colby tore a chunk of bread and dipped it into his stew. "Eat properly," he muttered to Long Hao. "You look like you haven't eaten in three days."
Long Hao picked up the spoon. The stew was thick, rich, full of spices unfamiliar to him. He took a bite.
Warm.
Heavy.
Real.
He hadn't realized how hungry he was until now.
Marek leaned back in his chair, balancing it dangerously on two legs. "So," he said casually, "memory boy. You really don't remember anything?"
Long Hao swallowed before answering.
"Not clearly."
