The outpost was alive with activity as the morning sun crept over the horizon. Merchants haggled with travelers, adventurers swapped tales of close calls, and the faint clang of blacksmiths hammering steel echoed from the forge. Yet in the midst of this vibrant scene, Ryu stood apart, leaning against a wooden railing near the outskirts of the bustling compound. His thoughts kept drifting back to the shadowy figure from the previous night, the cryptic warning replaying in his mind like a haunting refrain.
He hadn't told Aris or Draven. Not yet. There was too much uncertainty. Too much at stake. He couldn't shake the feeling that Voidfang's newfound power came at a dangerous cost. The faint pulsing of the blade at his back was a constant reminder that the Abyss wasn't entirely gone—it had merely shifted, waiting for its next move.
