Unholy Player

Adyr didn’t leave the market area immediately. He lingered a while longer, weaving through the shifting crowd with a silent gaze, taking the chance to observe.

This was the perfect time to observe. To study the way potential rivals moved, how they talked, who they aligned with, what equipment they carried, and most importantly, how confident they looked when no one was watching.

Only once he’d seen enough, once he had mentally cataloged the strongest personalities and gathered a rough sense of who might prove troublesome later, did he finally take to the skies, setting a silent course back toward Draven Mansion.

As he approached the familiar rooftops of the city, one thing was immediately clear.

Colossith was gone.

The behemoth’s towering form—along with the faint hum and tremors that had once radiated from its very presence—had vanished. There was no trace of Liora, either. Nor of the Velari practitioners who had once patrolled the surrounding area like silent sentinels.

Adyr’s eyes narrowed, scanning the city below as he remained suspended in the cool night air.

Even at this hour, long after midnight, the city was still awake. Lights twinkled from balconies, windows, and streetlamps. People wandered through the wide boulevards and open courtyards, their voices echoing with laughter and idle conversation.

Taverns kept their doors wide open, their interiors glowing with orange warmth. The sounds of clinking glasses and cheerful toasts spilled out into the streets. In the public squares, crowds had gathered around street performers and musicians, their bodies swaying gently to the rhythm of whatever melodies floated through the air.

It was a festival. A spontaneous one, perhaps—but unmistakable in spirit.

The departure of Colossith had become a city-wide celebration.