It didn't take them long to find the frozen lamp.
Honestly, it was hard to miss—a boulder-sized mass of ice right in the middle of the street.
Not carved, not designed, not even masked. Just raw, blunt, unnatural frost, glaring like a wound in the warm, polished heart of Region-1.
Art whistled low, hands in his pockets, amusement flickering in his eyes. "See? Didn't take us a while."
Zyon's lips twitched. "Yeah. But now comes the annoying part."
The frozen lump sat right in front of a shady alley—one that was unmistakably guarded.
A group of ten men, dressed in cobbled leather and dark layers, lounged near its mouth, but there was nothing casual about their eyes.
They were watching everything. Tense. Shifty. Their stance cracked slightly when they saw the duo approaching.
Art's eyes glimmered, and his grin turned jagged. Like a shark who'd scented blood in still waters.
'They're definitely hiding something.'
