The explosion that had shattered the street left behind only dust and debris, but in the blink of an eye, both Lyerin and the scarred old man reappeared in a dimly lit room.
The setting was starkly different, the two now standing inside what seemed to be an abandoned building.
Its wooden floors creaked beneath their feet, and the broken windows allowed pale moonlight to stream in, casting eerie shadows across the room.
The air was still, as if holding its breath in anticipation of what would come next.
The old man stood at the far end of the room, his posture relaxed despite the tension in the air.
He appeared unfazed by the sudden shift, as though he had been expecting this all along.
Lyerin, on the other hand, was anything but calm. His eyes glinted with manic excitement as he gazed at the old assassin, his lips curling into a grin that stretched too wide to be sane.