Zaber walked slowly through the city streets. The weight in his steps came not from his body, but from the exhaustion within. His left hand still ached faintly from the inside—the flow of mana had stabilized, yet its traces lingered. Today he did not seek rest; he sought silence.
For that reason, he turned toward a part of the city where few people ventured.
The city cemetery.
Enclosed by stone walls, this place felt cold and still even in daylight. There was no guard at the entrance gate, no warning sign—only time and forgotten memories reigned. Zaber stepped inside without hesitation.
The scent here was different. Damp earth, ancient stone, and the faint trace of life slowly fading. The gravestones were arranged in orderly rows, yet indifferent—as though it no longer mattered who lay beneath them; in the end, everyone came here.
Zaber took a deep breath.
"This place is peaceful…" he thought.
After walking among the graves for a while, he suddenly stopped.
