The city skyline stretched high above the streets, the golden banners of the Institute fluttering in the night breeze. Ambrosius Goldenloin stood on the balcony of his apartment, staring down at the glowing lights below. His armor, still polished from earlier that day, sat neatly on the stand by the door, but he felt its weight like a ghost on his shoulders.

Something wasn’t sitting right with him. The city had been quiet, "It's too quiet..." Ever since… well, since everything that happened, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Maybe it was just his nerves. Maybe it was the pressure of being the Ambrosius Goldenloin, the hero, the face of the Institute, the legacy everyone expected him to uphold.

He let out a slow breath, gripping the railing tighter. If something was out there, if trouble was brewing again, he’d be ready. He had to be.