Draven subtly merged with the group of nobles gathered near the scene, his presence unnoticed amidst their agitation and fear. As he drew closer, the sight that greeted him was grim: the beaten body of a young nobleman lay on the cobblestone street, his clothing torn and bloodied, evidence of a brutal assault.
The body was almost unrecognizable, the victim's face swollen and bruised, his noble attire stained with blood. The club used in the attack lay a short distance away, its wood darkened with bloodstains. It was a stark, horrifying contrast to the elegance and luxury that surrounded them.
The nobles around him were a mix of angry and afraid, their voices a low murmur of shock and disbelief. "This is too much! Even in our own district, we're not safe," one noblewoman whispered, her eyes wide with fear.
Another, a distinguished-looking gentleman, added, "The killer is becoming bolder, attacking us in broad daylight. Where will this end?"
