The white room did not stay white. It began to bleed. The walls turned into a dark, oily gray. The floor became cold, hard stone. The blue bicycle that Arthur was holding did not just turn into a snake; it dissolved into a puddle of black ink. The ink crawled across the floor like a living thing.Evan tried to move, but his feet were stuck. He looked down. His boots were sinking into the stone. The stone felt like wet clay. He looked at Marco. Marco was also frozen. He was standing three feet away, his mouth open to shout, but no sound came out."The Hall of Ghosts is not a place for running," the Overseer’s voice echoed.The silver-faced man did not walk into the room. He appeared. He was suddenly just there, standing at the head of a long, narrow table. The table was made of black glass. It was so shiny that Evan could see his own terrified face in the surface."Round Two is a game of chance," the Overseer said. His red eye-sensors flickered. "But in the Spire, chance is just mat

The air in the Zero Chamber was thick. It was not thick like smoke or steam. It was thick like heavy water. Every time Evan moved his arm, it felt like he was pushing through invisible mud. The smell of ozone—the sharp, electric scent of the Spire—was so strong it burned the back of his throat.Evan stood in the center of the dark room. He was no longer the twenty-year-old boy who had walked into the rookie pits with a handful of stolen seconds. He was thirty-two. His shoulders were broader, but they felt heavy. His back ached. His dark hair had streaks of silver that looked like spiderwebs in the dim, purple light.He looked at his hands. They were steady, but the skin was rougher. He was aging in jumps, skipping the years like a stone across a pond.Across the black glass table, the Overseer waited. The silver-faced machine did not breathe. It did not blink. Its red eye-sensors were fixed on Evan’s chest, where the Heart-Plug was glowing with a strange, golden fire."You are a very

The black hole did not swallow Evan. It changed him. When Evan ran into the dark void on the roof of the Spire, he expected to die. He expected the end. But the Engine in his chest, the golden Heart-Plug, had other plans. It screamed with a light so bright it hurt the universe.Evan opened his eyes. He was not on the roof. He was not in the sky.He was back in the red sand.The Rust Arena.The subterranean coliseum was louder than before. The heat was like a physical hand pressing against his face. The smell of ground-up metal and old blood was thick in the air. High above, the rich people in the glass boxes were leaning forward. They were not drinking wine anymore. They were shouting. They were hungry for more.Evan looked down at his hands. He was still thirty-two. His suit was torn. His skin was covered in red dust."Sunshine? You still with me?"Evan turned. Marco was there. He was sitting in the sand, holding his head. He looked solid. The gray static was gone. The wave of energ

Evan felt the weight returning. He looked at his hands. The wrinkles were coming back. His hair was turning white. His back was bending.[BALANCE: 0.00][BIOLOGICAL AGE: 82]He was the "Ancient Man" again. He had given every second of his stolen wealth to save the others."I'm okay, Marco," Evan wheezed. He leaned on a rusted pipe. "The math is broken. They can't harvest people who don't owe anything."But Viper was not done.High above, the man in the emerald suit slammed his fist against the glass."You think you're clever, boy?" Viper’s voice came through the arena speakers. "You gave them time? Fine. Now they are 'High-Value Targets'. Guards! Harvest them all! Take every century he just gave them!"The gates around the arena opened.Dozens of Scorpions and Vipers poured onto the red sand. They had their shock-poles and their green whips. They weren't looking for a show anymore. They were looking for the gold."Protect them!" Evan shouted to Marco.Marco grabbed a heavy iron bar. "

"You think this saves you?" Julian roared. He threw the iron gun across the room. It hit the stone wall and shattered into a thousand pieces of rust.Julian reached out and grabbed Evan by the hair. He pulled Evan’s head up."The game is over, Evan! The harvest is manual now! I will peel the Spark out of your chest with my own hands!"Julian raised his hand. His fingers turned into long, sharp blades of purple crystal. He aimed for the Heart-Plug in Evan’s chest."NO!"The shout didn't come from Evan.It came from the ghost.Marco, the flickering, empty Hollow, lunged across the table.He wasn't fast. He wasn't strong. He was a cloud of data and light.But as he hit Julian Vox, something strange happened.Because Marco was a Hollow—because his soul was empty—he acted like a vacuum. He began to suck the purple energy out of Julian’s crystal armor."Get off me, you piece of trash!" Julian screamed. He tried to push Marco away, but the grifter was stuck to him like a leech.The purple li