The streets of World Heart City stretched wide and winding, lined with obsidian towers etched in runes of gold and floating sigils that shimmered faintly under the ever-present starlight canopy above. Despite its vastness, the city exuded a suffocating presence—as if every inch of it breathed with the might of countless legends who had walked its paths.
Asher led them quietly through a central boulevard where the air itself buzzed faintly—not with spirit energy or mana, but with suppressed power, so thick that even the sky above seemed pinned in place by unseen pressure.
"Hide your racial traits from now on," he said in a low voice, glancing between Valeris and Veyra. "You both stand out. Too much."
Valeris raised a brow, but Asher's eyes were serious.
"Every World Ranker here is their own storm. If they've reached this level in this city… they didn't do it cleanly. They've fought, devoured, stolen, betrayed—whatever it took. We're not in the outer realms anymore."
