Loki did not return to his hotel room and instead continued walking through Velortath. Even as he was walking through the sidewalk, he saw a few martial artists running on building walls.
There was even the sound of someone fighting in one of the alleyways. The city might look like the modern world, but it felt like his old world, which was similar to this world's Middle Ages.
Martial artists leapt across rooftops, their movements a blur of speed no machine could match.
On a nearby wall, two figures sprinted sideways like insects, blades drawn, their inner energies flaring bright enough to light the alley in a storm of sparks.
Somewhere ahead, a sharp crack echoed, the unmistakable snap of bone breaking. It cut through the night like a whip, followed by a wave of muffled cheers, jeers, and drunken laughter. Street duels that were treated like nightly entertainment.
