The transition from the hyper-technological, smoke-filled hall of the Bringold Impact back to the harsh reality of Earth was jarring. I felt a visceral tug at my navel as the spatial transfer engaged, and in an instant, I was back.
Fwoosh!
The silver shroud and the middle-aged mask were gone. I was standing on the muddy banks of the Hudson River once more.
The scenery, filled with the harsh colours of the setting sun and the flickering neon lights of the ruined Jersey City skyline, blinded me for several seconds. My retinas burned as they tried to adapt to the sudden shift from the grayscale atmosphere of the auction to the chaotic palette of the apocalypse.
"Finally, you are back!"
The anxious, high-pitched voice of Isabella pierced through my disorientation. I squinted, enduring the throbbing ache behind my eyes as I sharply scanned the perimeter. My hand instinctively twitched toward my inventory, ready to summon a Souler or my ballista at the slightest hint of a threat.
