The city of Glora throbbed below, lights flickering like distant stars caught in concrete veins. Waza stood on the edge of the old observation tower, hoodie pulled tight, the night wind tugging at his thoughts as much as his jacket. Every sound horns, shouts, laughter, engines felt different now. He wasn't just hearing them; he was measuring them, mapping them, sensing the rhythm beneath the chaos. The Vein pulsed faintly beneath his skin, a quiet echo of potential, waiting.
Selena appeared beside him without a sound, like she had always been there, or perhaps she had simply walked into his awareness. Her hair caught the neon glow from the streets below, silver tips shimmering, eyes calculating, measuring him as much as the city.
"You're quiet tonight," she said, voice calm but knowing. "Thought you'd be more… excited."
"I'm observing," Waza replied, barely turning his head. "Preparation isn't excitement."
She smirked, a subtle tilt that reminded him of a cornered fox beautiful, dangerous, aware. "Observation only matters if you act. You've been standing on the edge for too long. Glora's watching, Waza. You can feel it, can't you?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the pulse under his skin sync with the city's rhythm. Every alley, every shadow, every whispered deal flowed into his senses. The Vein responded to intent now, faint sparks tracing along his arms, sensing the weight of choice.
"I feel it," he admitted. "But this… this has to be my move. Personal."
Selena nodded, leaning slightly closer, almost a mirror to his thoughts. "Then make it count. Make it irreversible." Her hand brushed briefly against his arm a spark, not from touch, but from recognition. She was the first to see him not just as Waza, but as something more.
Below, the streets shifted like tectonic plates. Waza's eyes traced the figures he had been tracking for weeks shadowed operators, whispered alliances, names he had learned to read like a map. His plan wasn't fully formed yet, but he knew this: his first step would leave a mark, one that couldn't be erased.
He turned to Selena. "If I do this, if I cross the line…"
"Then you own it," she said softly. "No turning back. No excuses. Not here, not ever."
Waza's jaw tightened. The Vein pulsed again, stronger, sharper, as if approving the clarity of his intent. He could feel the consequence settling in his chest like a weight, a tether to the world he was about to step into.
"Then it begins," he said, voice low, almost a whisper.
Selena gave him a faint smile. "Good. I'll be watching. But remember you're not alone in the shadow… just don't let them see your hesitation."
Waza nodded, and for the first time in weeks, he stepped down from the tower. Not into the city, not fully yet, but toward it. Every footstep measured, deliberate. Every heartbeat synced with the Vein and the pulse of Glora.
Tonight, he wasn't just an observer. He was beginning to shape his own path.
And the city, unknowingly, had already noticed.