CHAPTER LXIII: Pursuit of the Damned
The busy streets of Maharlika buzzed with life as the evening descended, the city illuminated by neon lights and the hum of vibrant energy. Crowds moved with purpose, their conversations blending into the noise of traffic and music that spilled from nearby establishments. In the midst of the bustling chaos, Cross stood motionless, his figure concealed beneath a black hooded trench coat. The leather straps across his chest gleamed faintly under the artificial glow, and his gloved hands rested calmly at his sides. His face, as always, remained shrouded in darkness, leaving only the red glint of his eyes visible beneath the hood. Above him, the overhead LED screen flashed brightly against the city skyline, displaying the sketch of his face. The image was rough yet unmistakably recognizable
- Writer
