Rex stepped into the heart of the commercial district, and the world recoiled.
It wasn't a coordinated movement; it was a visceral, instinctive retreat. People didn't move out of his way out of politeness or respect; they moved because their primal nervous systems had screamed a warning before their conscious minds could even process what they were seeing.
A woman, mid-stride with a basket of market goods, pressed herself so hard against a wooden stall that the timber groaned. A merchant, caught in a heated argument with a supplier, went dead silent, the words dying in his throat as his eyes locked onto the monolithic figure approaching.
Two academy students, laughing as they headed toward the east entrance, suddenly veered in the opposite direction, their faces pale, driven by an inexplicable urge to put distance between themselves and the stranger.
Rex ignored them all.
