Stepping through the ruined, rusted brass doors of the First Continental Reserve was a jarring collision of Old World opulence and feral, biological corruption.
The cavernous main lobby had once been a monument to infinite wealth. Towering pillars of polished white marble stretched fifty feet up to a vaulted, frescoed ceiling. Massive, shattered crystal chandeliers hung precariously by thick, frayed steel cables. But the apocalypse had completely reclaimed the architecture. Thick, bioluminescent green moss carpeted the pristine marble floors, feeding off the decaying paper currency that had blown out of the shattered teller cages.
Ren walked directly into the center of the sprawling lobby.
