The city had calmed, but the quiet was deceptive. Every corner could hide danger, every alley could conceal a strike. Jovian moved slowly, Vital Mirage shifting with him, their connection almost seamless now. Every movement was precise, every step deliberate.
Lucien scanned the rooftops, Midnight Sontana flickering between shadows, testing the heights. Alaric held the center, Golden Cavalier bracing against invisible pressure. Iggy darted ahead, sniffing the air, muscles tense, tail flicking with warning.
"…Something's not right," Lucien muttered.
Jovian's eyes narrowed. "I feel it too."
A low hum vibrated through the streets. Not from Dominion, not from the Syndicate—they were gone. This was new. Something different.
Shadows began to coalesce along the edges of the square. They moved with intent, twisting unnaturally. Then the figures emerged—masked, cloaked, their Stands radiating energy in distorted pulses.
Voss had allies. Or perhaps new threats entirely.
Jovian tightened his grip. Vital Mirage pulsed in response. The fight wasn't over. It was evolving.
Every instinct screamed: stay sharp. Move fast. Or die.