As the two parted ways, Zenon hailed a taxi, sliding into the backseat with a quiet sigh. The city lights blurred past the window, casting fleeting reflections across his face.
“Yeah, I’m on my way now,” he said, holding his phone to his ear as Darius spoke on the other end.
The hum of traffic filled the silence after the call ended. Zenon rested his elbow against the window, his fingers idly tapping against his knee. He tried to find calm in the neon-lit streets, in the rhythmic movement of the city, but his mind remained restless.
The realization weighed on him—there were likely followers of the Seven Kings of Hell in this world. But without a clear trail, where was he supposed to start?
His thoughts drifted back to the Gate Boss, to the terrifying past it had relived before its deat
