The diamond streets of Aureum-Primus did not echo with the sound of footsteps; they vibrated with the hum of ownership. Every block of crystal, every liquid-sun fountain, and every golden spire was a physical manifestation of the God of Wealth's hoarding. To the survivors of the Kashima Maru, who now marched in a tight, terrified column behind Ren Hanshin, the city was a psychological assault. It was too bright, too clean, and too heavy with the scent of things they could never afford.
Ren walked at the head of the procession, the scythe slung across his shoulder. He was no longer a man in a tattered coat; he was a walking breach in the golden reality. His matte-porcelain skin was etched with red circuitry that pulsed like a dying star. His left arm remained encased in the dull grey lead of the Midas-Infection, a heavy, dead weight that he used as a counter-balance to the divine silk.
[Synchronization: 64.2%]
[Level: 110]
