CHAPTER LXVI: City Lights
The southeastern wall of Intramuros stood tall and imposing against the backdrop of the evening sky. The last traces of daylight had vanished, leaving the city cloaked in a deep navy hue, its streets illuminated by scattered lanterns and flickering neon lights. A cool breeze swept across the wall’s high stone plate, carrying whispers of the bustling life below. But atop the wall, tension brewed—silent yet suffocating. Cross stood on the wall’s edge, the black trench coat that cloaked his frame blending seamlessly into the night’s shadows. His crimson eyes burned beneath his hood, their glow sharp and unyielding. He remained motionless, a lone figure silhouetted against the ancient stone, his presence defiant amidst the expanse of darkness. At the far end of the wall, five figures advance
- Writer
