Valeris stepped beside him, her arms crossed, silver eyes glinting in the city's fractured light. "It's like standing atop a volcano of ambition. You can feel it—burning beneath everything."
Asher nodded slowly. "Everyone here is hunting something. Power. Blood. Freedom. Maybe even redemption."
Behind them, Veyra leaned against the balcony doorframe, her expression thoughtful but steady. "This place reshapes people. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes… not."
The wind shifted, carrying distant howls from the dungeons and the low hum of mana engines powering the city's deeper layers. Below, the streets had grown stranger. Shadowy figures darted through alleyways. Runes pulsed from rooftops. Cultivators clashed in duels sanctioned by binding contracts, their blades and arts lighting the sky like a private war.
"Tomorrow," Asher said quietly, "we split up."
Valeris arched a brow. "Oh?"
