Riley paid no attention to the murmurs that rippled through the streets or the countless pairs of eyes that followed his every step.
People whispered—some in awe, others in fear—but none of it mattered.
Their opinions were fleeting, insignificant compared to the greater purpose that occupied his mind.
What truly concerned him was the clan that had pledged allegiance to him within this city—and, above all, the spiritual mine that had once belonged to his lineage before it was stolen through deceit and bloodshed.
That mine was more than just a source of wealth or power.
It was a symbol of legacy, the foundation of his clan's strength, and reclaiming it was not merely a task—it was destiny.
Riley's expression remained unreadable as he continued forward.
His long cloak fluttered lightly in the dry wind, carrying with it a faint scent of sand and steel.
