With all the alarms and formations neutralized, I silently made my way back to the nearest rooftop, taking care to avoid any remaining patrols. The high-rise building loomed before me, its windows gleaming in the dim light of the city. To most, those windows would reveal nothing—a blank, impenetrable surface. But to me, with my [Eyes] and my understanding of mana, the truth was laid bare.
I crouched low, peering through the barrier that concealed the room. There, beyond the layers of deception, I saw two silhouettes.
One was unmistakably Zharokath—his demonic aura pulsed faintly around him, his form seated comfortably as if he were in control of his world. But the second figure was smaller, more fragile.
A young child.
The sight of the small form sent a surge of anger through me. It was clear what Zharokath intended to do. The child, likely one of his victims, would soon be consumed.
And that sight….
It made me remember something.
