The darkness in the Sky Tower wasn't empty; it was a pressurized void filled with the scents of expensive scotch and escalating Alpha panic. Without the hum of the climate control or the flicker of the neon advertisements, the ballroom felt like a cave carved from carbon fiber. High Alpha Vane stood frozen, his hand still hovering over the dead alarm console. The only things illuminating the room were the molten gold of Dante’s eyes and the incandescent white starlight radiating from Astra’s palm.
"You’ve overplayed your hand, scavenger," Vane hissed, his voice a low vibration that rattled the empty crystal glasses on the bar. "You think a few darkened hallways in Tokyo will break the Global Council? We’ve survived centuries of human wars. We’ve survived the Great Slum Fire. We will survi
