Days passed. No new attacks.
Neuro stood near the second-floor AA-Lounge window, visor dimmed, arms crossed.
Blazren leaned against the wall beside him, silent, eyes on the mission feed.
Nothing.
No movement from the Heavenly Demon Sect. No activity from the Beastkin Brood.
It didn't make sense.
Neuro's fingers twitched.
"Something's wrong."
Blazren didn't answer at first.
He scanned the reports again, one hand swiping across the display, switching tabs.
All the usual signs—disappearances, movement patterns, hacked surveillance—they had stopped.
"No strikes. No sightings," he muttered.
"Even the Heavenly Demon Sect isn't doing anything."
Neuro's head turned slightly.
"They acted every day before."
"Attacks, subduing villains, moving in shadows. Now? Zero."
Blazren stepped forward. His boots echoed lightly against the metal floor.
"They're waiting. Planning," he said.
"That kind of silence? It's not peace. It's prep."
