In a world where night feels endless...
The city hums — loud, restless, drowning in the buzz of drones and digital voices.
The skies are bruised with permanent twilight, rain falling in slow, tired rhythms.
People walk like shadows. Empty. Colorless. Alive, but not truly living.
Once, the world burned. Then it chose darkness.
Green is forbidden. Nature is a memory.
Avalon rules with a perfect smile — and an iron hand.
Leo Valnhearth walked alone through the soaked streets of City 88
His hood was up. Rain slid down his face. Neon lights reflected in the puddles at his feet. The city never truly slept — it just blinked, buzzed, and whispered.
Behind him, sirens flared. Dogs barked.
Red and blue lights cut through the mist. Avalon patrols. Scanning for threats, criminals, rebels — anyone who looked out of place.
A screen high above the district lit up with a woman's flawless face and the Avalon seal spinning behind her.
"AVALON WILL ELIMINATE ALL REMAINING THREATS FROM THE TERRORIST GROUP ECLIPSE.
SO PLEASE — ENJOY YOUR LIFE WITH DIGNITY AND HARMONY.
AVALON GIVES YOU FREEDOM.
AVALON GIVES YOU PEACE."
Leo looked up at the screen, blank-eyed.
He pulled his hood tighter and muttered:
"Peace? …Heh. What a joke."
As he turned a corner near the plaza, Leo slowed.
A small boy ran through the puddles, laughing.
"Mama!" the boy shouted.
A woman caught him in her arms, spinning him gently, her smile wide and real.
The child's voice was high, light — too innocent for a place like this.
Leo froze.
Something inside his chest twisted — tight and sharp.
His breath grew heavier.
And then—
Flash.
A woman's face — blurry, close. Her arms reaching.
Pain.
Static.
White light.
Leo dropped to one knee. His hand touched the cold floodwater spreading across the concrete.
His chest rose and fell, too fast. The image flickered behind his eyes, then vanished.
His fingers clenched.
A whisper escaped.
"Mom…"
He blinked.
"I… I have a mom. I saw her. She was—"
Another flash.
Electricity.
A scream — maybe his own.
Pain in the back of his skull.
Tears hit the ground. He didn't feel them fall.
The rain grew harder, drowning the sound of the city.
Only his thoughts remained.
What's happening to me?
Why does this hurt?
Who am I really?
Leo wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. His breathing slowed. His eyes went cold again.
Like nothing had happened.
A drone descended.
It's hum sliced through the quiet — low and mechanical. Red lights blinked.
IDENTITY REQUIRED.
Leo didn't flinch.
He slowly raised his face to the scanner. Rain streamed down his cheeks.
IDENTITY VERIFIED: LEO VALNHEARTH.
The drone hovered for a moment longer, then drifted up and vanished into the mist.
Leo stood.
He didn't look back at the mother and child.
He just kept walking.
At the edge of a forgotten block, a dim orange light flickered behind a rusted sign: RETRO REALM.
Inside, the shop smelled like dust and old wires.
Shelves sagged with relics from a world before World War III — cartridges, boxy consoles, posters of games long banned or forgotten.
Rain tapped gently on the windows.
A soft glow came from a dusty arcade machine in the corner.
Behind the counter stood a man with a thick mustache, thick glasses, and a loud voice.
"Late again. Ten minutes! Maybe I should start taking it out of your salary!"
Leo walked in without changing expression.
"Sorry, Mr. Franko. You're right. I deserve that."
Franko blinked.
"Aah… that again. I wonder why I even keep you around. You don't argue. You don't complain. What's wrong with you, kid?"
Leo didn't answer.
The doorbell chimed softly as someone else entered.
Blonde hair, green eyes, and a smile too bright for a world like this.
"Hey, Leo," Mira said. "Don't worry about Franko. Even when he yells, he's got a good heart."
Leo turned toward her — and something in his eyes softened, just a little.
"Mira… hi."
She grinned and leaned over the counter like they were already mid-conversation.
"Leo, cold as always. You know if no one talked to you first, you'd probably never speak at all."
"It's not personal," Leo said. "Just how I am."
"Worse," she smirked. "That just makes you more mysterious."
Leo gave a faint shake of his head — maybe a smile, maybe not — and disappeared into the back room to change.
The door closed behind him.
The rain kept falling outside.
But for a moment, in that warm, orange-lit shop, the world went quiet.
On the back wall, a faded sticker clung to an old console — the half-burned symbol of a rising sun.
Leo stared at it for a second too long.
Why does that feel familiar?