"Where's Kent?" a young girl asked her father, clutching a betting slip. "They said he entered… why isn't he out yet?"
"He might have died by now." Her father replied with a smirk.
Fatty Ben chuckled softly as he over heard. "Patience, little one. The master doesn't need to come out first. When he comes, it will be with quiet steps and a full bag. Let those flashy fools have their moment… the real storm hasn't arrived yet."
Above them, the Aurora Glass shimmered, momentarily flashing a still image from inside the forest—several bodies sprawled in the underbrush, cleanly slain, no blood spilled outside their wounds. The audience gasped. No one could see who had done it… only the eerie silence that followed.
Some spectators shivered. "That's… the work of an assassin, not a showman."
Fatty Ben only smiled wider, eyes glinting. He knew exactly whose shadow was moving in that forest.
