Echo Alley

The chestnut-haired man leaned forward and said quietly, "Actually, I recently received some news..."

As if afraid someone might overhear, he lowered his voice even further, his gaze burning as he said:

"It seems the remaining Scourers have caught the scent as well... With so many different people gathering during the tournament, they may create even greater chaos... and chaos... is our opportunity."

"Chaos is a tool, not the objective."

The other man spoke without any excess emotion in his voice. "What I want is results—certain, tangible results that can bring about a breakthrough. Prometheus's patience is not limitless, and neither is mine..."

"Of course, Sir." The chestnut-haired man leaned in. "I'll bring back the spark. My 'partner' will certainly provide enough persuasion."

"I hope everything goes smoothly." The other man sighed. "For us, time is the only luxury, and we are overdrawing it in great quantities... Don't disappoint me, my friend."

"Of course. When has our cooperation ever disappointed you?" the chestnut-haired man said confidently.

Just then, lights flashed from the dance floor outside. One beam passed through the narrow strip of one-way glass on the door, briefly illuminating the other person in the private room.

The man looked to be at least eighty years old. Beneath his thick, white, unruly eyebrows were a pair of unforgettable eyes.

He wore a silk high-collared shirt, with a thick, soft wool blanket covering his legs. His hands resting on the armrests resembled ancient tree roots, their skin marked by distinct age spots and veins.

The light vanished in an instant, and the room returned to dim silence. The flickering candlelight seemed to form an invisible domain around the old man, creating an oppressive, weighty presence.

Over the next few days, Wade and the other two did not try to test