Rhys turned the Moonstone over one last time, then slipped it into his inventory.
The altar dimmed instantly, its glow fading as if the chamber itself sighed in surrender. The silence that followed was heavy, but not hostile. Whatever trial had once guarded this place had long since ended.
Still, Rhys didn't linger. He adjusted the Ruinous Darkness Blade across his back and started back through the ruin. Guardians still stirred in the walls, but none dared attack. The faint pressure he'd felt earlier was gone—the Moonstone had been the heart of this place, and now it was his.
Outside, the streets of the quarter seemed brighter than when he had entered. The sun angled lower, golden light cutting across the weathered shops and cracked signs. Merchants still hawked their strange wares, but Rhys walked past them with measured calm. He had no need to haggle here—not with what he had just found.
