Waza moved through Glora like a shadow among shadows. Even at night, the city's pulse guided him not just the hum in his veins, but the rhythm of people, engines, and the faint glow of neon signs. Every corner held a story, every alley whispered secrets.
The encounter with Selene lingered in his mind. Observation first. Move carefully. Waza had learned that lesson well. Tonight, he would test it.
He drifted past the usual streets he knew and let instinct guide him to the newer districts places he had avoided before. Here, the city's beauty hid danger: neon signs promising "exclusive" clubs, quiet couriers slipping between high-rise shadows, and the occasional glance of men whose silence screamed warning.
Waza's eyes caught a scene in the distance a small gathering at the corner of Daven and Lora Street. Three men in crisp suits were counting cash on a car hood. Their movements were precise, careful, almost ritualistic. Waza paused in the shadows, notebook ready, pen poised. Observation.
One of the men glanced up, and Waza felt the Vein pulse sharply beneath his skin. Something about this trio wasn't normal. Influence. Money. Power. He scribbled notes: names, appearances, timing.
A voice whispered behind him faint, almost carried by the wind. "First time noticing the currents?"
He turned, instinctively, to see a figure leaning against a streetlight: a woman with dark hair tied back, sharp eyes scanning the street. She wasn't Selene, but there was the same calm authority.
"You know how to stay unseen," she said. "Most people walk right past without seeing the players."
Waza kept his tone neutral. "And you are?"
"Liora," she said simply. "I watch the edges. Those who run money, power, influence they leave traces. Learn them."
He nodded. Observation. That much he understood. But there was something else a faint aura in her presence, a sense that Liora could move through these streets with ease, unseen but felt.
"Why show me this?" he asked.
She shrugged lightly. "Because someone has already noticed you. The Vein… it's not just a pulse. It's a signal. And in Glora, signals attract attention. Sometimes you want it, sometimes you don't. Right now, you need to know who's worth watching."
Waza's notebook grew heavier in his hands. Not literally, but mentally, he was cataloging every detail. Faces, streets, habits. Every observation was a thread he could pull if needed.
"And remember," Liora added, voice softening, "Glora's currents are dangerous. Money talks. Power whispers. And the quietest people often make the loudest moves."
Waza watched her disappear into the night before he allowed himself to breathe. Alone again, he continued down the avenue, Vein humming faintly in approval. Observation, notes, patience. The city was a board, and he was learning its layout.
By the time he returned to his apartment, he had pages filled with names, streets, and patterns. No action yet. No alliances. Just awareness.
And sometimes, he reminded himself, that was all you needed to survive.