Every morning, before the first light hits the monoliths of The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, Komatsu checks the cairn a hundred paces from their camp. It’s where their rival leaves the previous day’s finest find. Sometimes it’s a sliver of sunstone, other times a perfectly formed quartz. It’s a challenge, a taunt, and a sign of respect all at once. The deep scar on Komatsu’s face aches when the wind is cold, a reminder of the day this game turned serious. They were both caught in a cave-in, and their rival chose to dig Komatsu out rather than claim the giant geode that would have made them famous. They never spoke of it. They don’t need to. The eyewear helps Komatsu spot what lies hidden in the dark, but the rivalry is what truly keeps their senses sharp.