The streets of Atlas Skycity were alive with the bustle of evening trade, lantern light flickering across marble walls and polished steel walkways. Merchants shouted the worth of their goods, hawking spices, runic artifacts, and enchanted fabrics to passersby. Yet among the gleaming towers and brilliant neon runes, Ryuzen's path took him downward, away from the splendor and into the narrow veins of the commoners' district. Here the brightness of the upper city dimmed, replaced with creaking wooden signs, crooked doorframes, and alleys that carried the weight of hardship on every stone.
He had asked discreet questions, seeking the trail of a small girl he once helped. He finally arrived at a shabby house pressed between two others. Its roof sagged as if crushed by years of forgotten rain, the paint on the wooden frame peeled into gray splinters, and the faint smell of damp earth hung in the air.
