As Morgan's challenge echoed across the arena, the Phantom's laughter sent a chill through the crowd.
The battlefield, a twisted landscape of shadows and mist, seemed to pulse with The Phantom's anticipation.
"Oh, my dear Morgan," the Phantom's voice whispered, impossibly close yet untraceable, "the game has indeed only just begun. Shall we play?"
Before Morgan could react, the Phantom was upon her.
His hands, moving with inhuman speed, struck precise points along her neck and chest.
Each touch was light, almost gentle, but the effect was immediate and terrifying.
Morgan's eyes widened in shock as she felt her heartbeat begin to race, then slow, then race again.
The rhythm was chaotic, unpredictable, completely out of sync with her body's natural pace.
"What... what have you done to me?" she gasped, clutching at her chest.
