Previous chapter:
Chapter 160: The Shape of a Mark
Next chapter:
Chapter 162: The Somatic Loop
PREVIEW
...
A high-pitched, whistling hiss sliced through the frigid night, marking the weapon’s trajectory. Vane stood dead center in the villa’s private training circle. His breath punched out in short, controlled bursts of white mist that vanished instantly into the dark.
He was deep in the rhythm.
The Argent Horizon.
It was the spear art he had stolen, adopted, and was now forcing to evolve.
Every movement was a study in lethal economy. There was no wasted motion. ...
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE
























