Warlock Ch 460. The New Bar of Haven City
A half month later.
Haven City had changed.
It wasn't loud or flashy. There weren't banners flapping from rooftops, or festivals in the street, or chants of victory echoing through alleyways. But it was there—in the quiet order of rebuilding crews finishing their final scaffolds, the new stonework laid where the city walls had been scorched and shattered. There was laughter again. Soft. Careful. Like people were testing the sound of it.
And right near the heart of it all, tucked in a sloped cobbled street where the lanterns cast long, amber shadows at dusk, was his bar.
It didn't have a name on the front.
Just an old wooden sign hanging above the heavy oak door. Etched by hand. No words—just a sigil carved in dark silver. A mark that only the right people would recognize. Beneath that, faint runes shimmered every time someone magical stepped near, reading their affinity and slightly adjusting the ambient mana of the space.
