The streets were quiet, but it wasn't peace. Broken debris and scorched asphalt marked the battle's end. Dust drifted in faint streams, catching the pale morning light.
Jovian walked slowly, Vital Mirage hovering beside him. The Stand's energy thrummed with subtle tension. Even in victory, he could feel danger lingering.
Lucien cleaned his blade, Midnight Sontana flickering along walls, scanning for hidden threats. Alaric remained steady, Golden Cavalier radiating a faint aura, protecting their rear. Iggy darted through the rubble, sniffing for traces, ears flicked forward, tail coiled.
"…Something's wrong," Jovian muttered.
It wasn't just the remnants of the Syndicate. Dominion's energy had left faint traces. New currents. New threats. Shadows moving in ways he couldn't track.
Voss had allies. Or perhaps new enemies entirely. The real fight wasn't over—it was only evolving.