Lyerin stood in the center of his tribe's stronghold, surrounded by the remnants of the Cragar'Throm Clan mana beasts.
Their curious eyes followed him as he walked toward the towering stone statue in the middle of the encampment.
The statue, seemingly crude, rough-hewn and worn by age, feels like it represented a long-forgotten spirit of war and power—like an ancient deity, revered by the tribe in times past that no longer exist.
Lyerin reached into his pocket and retrieved the black coin with the golden panther design. Its surface gleamed in the dim light, and the intricate etching of the panther seemed almost alive, as though it were ready to leap off the coin itself.
Lyerin smiled.
"I can't believe I really got this coin," he murmured to himself, the weight of it heavy in his hand.
He paused for a moment, trying to sense if Lord Victor was watching.
