As the minutes ticked by in silence, Lyerin glanced at Lucas, his posture unyielding, arms folded across his chest as if it was simply another day among his tribe.
After a few tense moments, Lucas's phone buzzed, and he lifted it to his ear.
A brief conversation ensued—quiet, controlled, and heavy with undertones of urgency.
Lucas pulled the phone away from his ear, his face alight with restrained excitement and nervous respect. "They're on their way, sir," he reported, voice low yet clear.
Lyerin nodded in acknowledgment, his face an unreadable mask. But as they waited, Lucas couldn't resist the bubbling curiosity that had been gnawing at him since he'd learned Lyerin was the one leading this tribe.
He leaned forward, addressing Lyerin with a kind of hesitant reverence.
"Sir…if it's not too much trouble," he began carefully, "could I ask about… about the survival game?" His eyes sparked with admiration, the kind reserved for legends.
