The south didn't look like a war site.
Crisis here came dressed beautifully in polished marble lobbies, glass towers, and luxury ether cars gliding past military barricades like they were temporary street decorations. Power wore designer suits and fake smiles. It pretended to be civilized.
It never was.
By the time Gregoris arrived, the rebellion was already structurally crippled. It hadn't made the news yet. Shadows didn't leave smoke trails. They slipped through financial networks, private military channels, encrypted ether contracts, and quiet corruption with incredible accuracy. By morning, half the "movement" leaders no longer existed in any usable capacity.
Still, the local power brokers thought they had room to negotiate.
They had requested a "coordination meeting."
Gregoris accepted. He was curious what they would propose, and if it was something audaciously stupid, then he could kill them all and return to Rafael until morning.
They chose a tower.
