The impact was a thunderclap. Luca hit the stone floor first, skidding across it as the Warden’s colossal ash-formed limbs slammed down where he had stood an instant earlier. The force of the blow left a crater, cracks spiderwebbing outward. Dust rained from the carved ribs above.Luca rolled, claws dragging sparks along the rock as he pushed himself back to his feet. His muscles screamed, but the instinctive part of him—the buried, feral part—was already awake. Already calculating. Already remembering how to survive things bigger than him.The Warden came again.A blur of shadow and memory.Its skull lunged forward like a battering ram.Luca ducked low, swept beneath the arc of its enormous jaw, and slashed upward at the Warden’s ribs. His claws tore through a line of runes—ash burst outward in a spiraling bloom, and the cavern flashed with red light—but the creature did not falter.Instead, the damaged runes reformed.The ash stitched itself back together.The Warden reshaped.It di

Luca emerged from the cavern with the weight of silver memories settled deep within him. The night air hit his face like a shockwave—cold, damp, but somehow familiar. Above him, the city sprawled like a living organism, its lights flickering in rhythm with the distant pulse of traffic and neon signs. Smoke from late-night alleys curled upward, carrying with it the faint smell of ash and blood—a reminder that some parts of the city never slept, never healed.He paused at the edge of the rooftop, eyes scanning the horizon. The skyline wasn’t just buildings; it was a map of power, danger, and alliances long forgotten or broken. Somewhere in that maze of streets, the factions he had once led still whispered his name—some in fear, some in reverence, and some in anticipation of the chaos they expected him to bring.Luca clenched his fists, nails scraping lightly against his palms. The silver memories weren’t just remnants—they were tools, keys to reclaiming his command without succumbing to

The city had a pulse, and Luca could feel it thrumming beneath the asphalt, beneath the crumbling buildings and the neon haze. Each alley, each rooftop, each abandoned warehouse carried the weight of secrets long buried, debts unpaid, and ambitions unrestrained. He had walked these streets before, but tonight, they seemed alive in a way that made him uneasy. Not the predictable life of crime or corruption he had once navigated—this was something more deliberate. The city itself was watching, waiting, breathing.He moved fast, yet with care, a shadow among shadows. His senses stretched taut, aware of every subtle shift: the scraping of shoes against concrete, the faint hiss of a neon sign, the low hum of distant machinery. The silver memory from the cavern pulsed softly in the back of his mind, a tether to who he had been and who he was becoming. The Warden, the guardian of his stolen past, had given him the tools to reclaim his life—but it had also reminded him that power carried cons

The city’s heartbeat was erratic tonight, each pulse echoing through the alleys and skyscrapers like a warning. Luca moved through the streets with deliberate caution, senses stretched, muscles coiled, instincts honed to their peak. The previous encounters had reminded him that the factions weren’t just opportunists—they were organized, disciplined, and desperate to carve the city in their own image. But he had something they didn’t: the silver memory and the Warden’s lessons, fused into precision and power.From a high rooftop, he surveyed the district. A convoy of vehicles, carrying men marked with the crescent-and-claw insignia, made its way through the streets. Their movements were synchronized, their confidence bold but naive. Luca’s eyes narrowed. This was the opening he had been waiting for—the first strike to reclaim the city’s pulse and assert his presence.He descended silently, a shadow against the neon glow. Each landing was measured, each step calculated, avoiding debris

Dawn broke unevenly over the city, casting fractured beams of light through the smoke and debris that still clung to the alleys. Luca walked with deliberate steps through the streets, muscles taut, senses sharp, every shadow a potential threat, every whisper a piece of information. The Warden’s trial had left him changed—not merely stronger, but clearer, more focused. The silver memory now burned like a lodestar in his mind, illuminating the paths others couldn’t see, revealing threats before they could strike, and exposing weaknesses others assumed hidden.The factions were restless. His first strike, the chaos of the previous nights, and now the reverberations of the trial had sent tremors through their ranks. Rumors of a returning predator spread quickly, carried by whispers, graffiti, and subtle signals that Luca alone could read with precision. The city itself seemed to pulse in anticipation, as if aware that its rhythm was about to be rewritten.He moved toward the industrial se