The Nameless Heir
Chapter 97: Pretenders
He shot toward the city and stopped.
Not because he meant to.
Something slammed into the ground with enough force to punch the breath out of the sky.
The explosion came right after—quick, brutal.
Heat tore through the city, burning across rooftops like Zeus had lost patience and thrown down lightning just to watch something burn.
His breath caught midway.
He didn’t flinch.
Not from fear.
Just from the weight pressing in—thick and still, like the sky was holding its breath.
The smoke curled. The fire lingered. The ground wouldn’t stop shaking.
It didn’t feel like wrath. It felt like something made by men.
He’d heard gods tear the sky open. Felt the weight of divine fury in his own hands.
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