After parting ways with James, Raven, and Bryelle, I made my way straight toward the Tower.
What a long, exhausting day.
Sure, war had built up my resilience—both mental and physical—but I wasn't some kind of masochist. The sooner this whole conflict ended, the better.
By the time I reached the Utopian Tower, night had already draped the city in darkness. The streets were quieter, the usual hustle subdued by the weight of the ongoing war. But as I stepped inside the grand structure, the atmosphere was anything but calm.
Knights and nobles alike were dashing back and forth in a frenzied panic, their armor clanking against the marble floors, their hurried footsteps echoing through the vast hallways. Others stood frozen in place, their faces pale with shock.
A sudden unease settled in my chest.
Don't tell me something happened to Alvara?