High above, Lyra read the latest report.
"…He entered a low-tier guild."
Her expression didn't change.
"Works small jobs. Efficient completion rate. No visible strain."
That was the problem.
Everything about him was… controlled.
Too controlled.
"…He's hiding something," she concluded.
Not power.
Intent.
Meanwhile, Andres continued walking through the city, unaware of how closely he was being analyzed.
But not unaware of the feeling.
His Mind's Eye stirred again—subtle, quiet.
Patterns forming.
"…Someone's still watching," he noted internally.
Instead of reacting, he adjusted.
He took longer routes.
Paused unpredictably.
Blended into different crowds.
Each movement small.
But intentional.
Because in a place like Velmora—
Being predictable was the same as being vulnerable.