The docks of Glora were quiet at first too quiet. Waza stood behind a stack of crates, the hum in his veins pulsing faintly, syncing with the rhythm of distant waves. He could feel the tension in the air before his eyes even caught the movement.
Selene crouched beside him, her gaze sharp, scanning every shadow. "They're close," she whispered. "And I can feel it… they know we're watching."
Waza nodded silently. He didn't need to speak; his body had learned the language of caution long before his mind had. His eyes followed the alley where the Stranger's group was gathering. They were three this time tall, lean, and unmistakably deliberate in their movements. The hum in Waza's veins throbbed as he noticed the faint shimmer in their steps not all of them human, he realized.
Selene moved first, slipping from the shadows like smoke. Her blade reflected the weak lamplight as she positioned herself strategically. Waza's pulse quickened not from fear, but from awareness. He could sense the energy of the Vein responding to theirs. It whispered, warning him. Testing him.
The Stranger emerged last, tall and unshakable, their mask reflecting nothing, hiding everything. They paused, sensing Waza's presence without turning fully. "So, the observer comes out of hiding," the Stranger's voice carried lightly, deliberately, challenging.
Selene stepped forward, her stance protective but poised to strike. "We see you," she said simply.
The Stranger laughed softly, a sound that made Waza's teeth tighten. "Seeing isn't enough. Observation is survival, but engagement… engagement teaches."
Waza's eyes flickered over their formation, noting the spacing, the subtle signs of readiness. He felt the Vein pull subtly toward him, almost guiding him. But he didn't move yet he stayed the silent storm he had always been, letting Selene take the first step, letting her test the waters.
Suddenly, one of the Stranger's followers lunged fast, precise. Selene met him mid-step, parrying with a graceful, brutal motion. Waza's reflexes kicked in instinctively; he dove forward to intercept another attack before it even fully formed. The hum surged, illuminating faint streaks along his veins.
The fight was brief but intense. Each clash of metal, each movement, was measured, like a conversation with danger. Waza noticed the subtle coordination in the Stranger's group a rhythm he hadn't seen before. He stored it mentally, filing away every detail for later analysis.
"Not bad," the Stranger said, circling them. "But observation alone won't save you. Will you strike, or stay hidden behind your walls?"
Selene glanced at Waza, a spark of challenge in her eyes. "He's learning," she said softly. "But he won't wait long."
Waza felt it the pull of the Vein urging him to step forward, to test the boundaries of his own power. But he stayed, breathing steady, observing every movement, every pattern, letting the Stranger reveal themselves.
And somewhere behind the glow of the streetlamps, Glora hummed. The city watched. The docks, the alleyways, the rooftops above all bore witness to the first true clash of shadows Waza would face.
By the time the confrontation ended neither side fully defeated but both marked by awareness Waza knew one thing: this was no ordinary fight. This was a test. A lesson. And Glora had just whispered its first challenge.
Selene sheathed her blade, her eyes still sharp. "You learned something tonight, Waza. Did you see it?"
Waza nodded slowly, feeling the Vein pulse in affirmation. "I did," he said. "And I'm ready for the next."
The Stranger melted back into the shadows, leaving only echoes and questions in their wake. And Waza understood every corner of Glora, every quiet street, every silent alley would now demand attention. Observation was survival. Engagement was power.
And both were only beginning.