The high-altitude turbulence crashed wildly between the buildings, emitting a sharp whistle.
The smoke and blood scent lingering on the rooftop were blown to disperse everywhere, swirling into the pitch-black night sky.
All eyes were instantly focused on the figure of the newcomer.
The person stepped on a concrete railing no wider than a palm, with the heel largely hanging in the void.
The wind blew his black hoodie tightly against his torso, the fabric making a snapping sound, outlining the tense muscles beneath.
Yet he didn't even sway; hands in pockets, he was like an iron stake hammered into the building's wall.
The neon lights behind the city cast a layer of cold edges around him.
In the backlight, his facial expression was obscured.
Only those pale gold eyes looked down without any ripples.
There was no emotion in that gaze, yet it instantly tightened everyone's nerves present.
A sense of pressure that chilled to the bone silently enveloped the scene.
