"What do you mean poisoned?" another recruit demanded, her voice shaky. "That doesn't make any sense!"
Aziz ignored her, his mind racing. He crouched on the edge of his bunk and leaned down, careful not to touch the floor for too long. The faint sheen was there—barely visible—but unmistakable to someone with his training. Whatever this substance was, it had seeped into the boy's body through prolonged contact.
One of the recruits, a stubborn-looking boy, scoffed. "You're just trying to scare us. Poison on the floor? That's ridiculous."
"Stay on the floor if you want," Aziz snapped, not even bothering to look up. "But if you want to end up like him, don't come crying to me."
The boy hesitated, glancing nervously at the lifeless body before clambering onto the nearest bunk.
Marcus, ever calm, leaned forward slightly. "Poison that works through contact. It's slow, but effective."
