The streets of Glora never really slept. Even at midnight, the hum of engines, distant laughter, and flickering neon lights reminded Waza that the city was alive always watching, always moving.
He walked alone, hoodie pulled low, hands in his pockets. The rooftop breach from days ago still lingered in his mind, a faint pulse beneath his ribs part curiosity, part unease. He had learned to observe, to read the subtle shifts in the city's rhythm. But tonight, something felt different.
A figure stepped out from a side alley. Waza froze, studying her without moving a muscle. She was nothing like anyone he'd seen before tall, confident, every step measured. Her hair fell in silver strands that caught the streetlight, her eyes cold but assessing.
"You're Waza," she said, voice smooth, like a calm tide pulling at him.
"I've been called worse," he replied, his tone neutral, careful.
"I'm Selene," she said, tilting her head slightly. "I know what you've been… feeling. Watching. Waiting."
Waza didn't answer immediately. His instincts screamed caution. This wasn't an attack, not yet. But he had learned that people like Selene rarely appeared for nothing.
"You've touched the Vein," she continued, stepping closer, hands visible but relaxed. "Not fully, but enough that others are noticing."
His chest tightened. The Vein. The pulse that had once been a whisper was now a rhythm a language he didn't fully understand. He had learned to feel it, to move with it, but its purpose remained unclear.
"Why now?" Waza asked, voice low.
Selene's eyes flicked briefly toward the streets around them, scanning the shadows. "Because the city is shifting. People who thought they were untouchable are feeling the first tremors. And you… you're not invisible anymore."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Waza could hear the distant calls of street vendors, the clatter of an engine in the alley behind them, even the faint flutter of a rat somewhere near the curb.
He studied Selene, noting her calm, measured movements, her confidence, the way she seemed almost in tune with Glora itself. Someone who moved in the gaps of power, who thrived where others hesitated.
"You want me to join something?" Waza asked cautiously.
Selene smiled faintly, almost imperceptibly. "Not yet. Observation comes first. Learn who's worth watching, who's worth avoiding. Then, when the time comes… choices become clearer."
He nodded slowly. Trust wasn't a currency he spent lightly. He had learned the hard way that most people weren't worth the risk. But Selene… she carried a weight, an unspoken authority, and the city itself seemed to bend slightly in her presence.
"I'll watch," Waza said finally. "And learn."
Selene's smile widened just a fraction. "Good. But remember in Glora, observing isn't enough. You'll need to move, act, and sometimes… bend the rules that everyone else obeys."
Without another word, she turned and slipped back into the alley, melting into shadow. Waza watched her go, chest still humming with the Vein, mind spinning with questions.
He had no allies yet. No one to trust. But one thing was certain: things in Glora were no longer just streets, noise, and shadows. They were games. And for the first time, Waza felt like he was on the board, not just a piece moving without choice.
As he continued down the empty avenue, the city lights reflecting off wet pavement, he scribbled in his notebook:
Observation first. Trust later. Move carefully.
And somewhere beneath the hum of Glora, the Vein pulsed louder as if agreeing.