Within the same day. My new territory was busy.
The Agro Capital Mage Tower was less of a mystical sanctuary and more of a bustling transit terminal, humming with the electric vibration of constant spatial folding.
Every five minutes, the air would warp with a violet flash, and another confused but wealthy traveler would stumble out into the "Arrival Lounge."
I stood on the mezzanine, watching the chaos unfold with the sharp, calculating eyes of a CEO trapped in the delicate, porcelain-doll face of Milabuella.
Beside me, Viking was a silent, dark pillar of brooding intimidation, while Sir Alexstood half a step behind, his hand never straying far from his sword hilt, his eyes scanning the room for threats—or perhaps just checking to make sure my original, 65-kilo body (still being pampered in the palace) hadn't suddenly decided to sleepwalk into the my territory.
