The perpetual twilight of Neo-Mumbai pressed down, a heavy shroud of recycled air and the distant thrum of power conduits, Kael, twenty-three but feeling decades older, dragged himself through the labyrinthine alleys of Sector-7, the neon glow painting his weary face in garish hue.
Every step was a conscious effort, his body a vessel for endless grind— scavenging, hacking, just existing. The city was a beautiful, brutal beast, its glittering spires, a mocking testament to a life he could only glimpse through cracked data-screens.
He'd seen enough, done enough, to know the true cost of survival in this chrome-plated jungle, where every pleasure had its price and every secret could be bought or sold. Sometimes, the sheer weight of it all, the constant demand to be sharper, faster, just to stay afloat, felt like a physical burden, much like those endless nights studying for civil services, where the pressure was immense and you just wanted to breathe but couldn't, you know?
He yearned for a moment of silence, a break from the relentless sensory assault, but the city never slept, never forgave. He found a secluded alcove, the damp synth-concrete cool against his back and closed his eyes, letting the familiar drone of the city wash over him.
For a fleeting second, there was peace but then, a searing, invasive heat erupted from deep within his core, a primal scream of data and magic that tire through his senses, claiming him entirely. It was here, and it was ravenous.