The air was suffocating.
The scent of scorched dirt, rust, oily smoke… and something else.
Something Fade couldn't quite name—a sense of corruption that didn't belong.
To call it a street was generous.
Containers piled side by side, alleys surrounded by rusted barrels, makeshift shelters draped with torn tarps.
Children weren't playing—they just stood, still and silent.
Their eyes didn't hunger. They had already given up.
Zeyna let out a breath. "Damn... this is supposed to be a city?"
Darin clenched his jaw. "Feels more like a graveyard."
Kaela scanned her device while glancing around. "System marks this zone as 'Wasteside.' Zero security access. No patrol logs."
"What about the people?" Arven asked. "Aren't they recorded?"
Fade didn't respond.
But his thoughts silenced the rest:
"No one lives here. They just... remain."
There were people around—but they didn't feel present.
No eye contact. No greetings. No curiosity.
Each clung to their ruin like it was chosen.
